


Mark to Match

by Vivagrazia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Action, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Branding, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Romance, Slow Burn, Torture, but only at the beginning and the end, smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivagrazia/pseuds/Vivagrazia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Skye breaks under interrogation, she turns to the only person she hates as much as herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Between Devil and Deep Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU from Season 2 Episode 6: A Fractured House. Instead of the senator's men picking up Ward, Coulson and Skye want to deliver him themselves. Then Hydra shows up.
> 
> The first two chapters include TORTURE. And Ward's mangled thoughts. Then Skye's mangled thoughts. Everyone's just a bit messed up!
> 
> But yeah, heed the warnings! I want no triggering.

 

He had no idea. Not a single clue they would come for him.

Why should Hydra care about Grant Ward? Garrett cared about Grant Ward. When people needed a soldier they cared about Grant Ward.

But he never once expected to be rescued.

"Son of a bitch!" Skye shouted. "I told you, I  _told_  you, we can't trust a word that comes out of his mouth. He's crap!"

"That may be true, but we can't know he's the reason for this," pointed out Coulson as he tried clinging to a drastically flipping plane. "How would he have gotten any information out?"

Skye scoffed. "I don't know! But he's been out of the base for point three seconds and you don't think it's his fault? He's a lying, traitorous, fu-"

"Agent Skye!" Coulson ordered. "Secure the prisoner or find a way to get Fitz or Mack on the line. I don't want to have to tell you again."

She was fuming. She was pissed. But she was obedient.

The soldier they were turning her into was going well.

"Get up," she told him, and he realized by her harsh voice she'd make a nice officer too.

Even if it disgusted him, even if he hated asking her to do it, Coulson knew there was less of a chance Ward would try anything with Skye directing him. That's why she was included on this mission to move him. Not because she cared, of course not. But because she was a failsafe he wouldn't make an attempt to escape. And it was true.

That still didn't stop the Director from sending five armed guards with them.

Skye took Ward’s arm, guiding him through the plane he already knew so well. Her grip was firm but her facial features told a different story. She was repulsed. She wished she didn't have to touch him.

He wished that too.

* * *

 

Even from the cell it was loud. Bumpy. He had to sit down or he'd fall over, the plane twisted and turned as though it were stuck in its own tornado. It could have been, for all Ward knew. There were no windows.

But in fact it was something much, much worse.

His door opened.

There were at least ten men positioned just outside. Soldiers dressed in camo, the multiple legged skull-creature that they followed emblazoned on each of their uniforms. The undercover agency he'd once been a part of was no more. They were in the light, out in the open, and they were planning to stay.

One stepped forward out of the group. Grey hair, but only about forty years old. His face was hard and stern. Vicious too. He had incredibly noticeable crow's feet on his face along with a smirk that said he felt in charge. Ward knew him, but only through reputation.

"Agent Grant Ward. You are a difficult one to find."

Ward was out of practice. He wasn't intimidating. Clothed in prisoner's attire, shackled hands and feet, beard unshaven. His arm still held the mark of his failure. His mind was still lost and still moved unsteadily.

But he gathered his thoughts.

_Be Grant Ward again._

His arms crossed gently across his chest, trying to be casual.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been staying in the shadows pretty well, I presume."

Blackwell smirked, just barely. "A plane with the ability to be cloaked helps. This will be a nice additive to our collection."

Ward nodded. "Glad to hear it."

"Are you?"

They knew. Shit, they knew.

He still didn't move.

"Of course," Ward told him. "I am Hydra." He snickered, allowing himself a step forward both physically and metaphorically, a rather bad attempt at changing the subject. "Your reputation precedes you, Agent Blackwell. To send you is… significant. So I'm guessing this rescue isn't just because I'm a valued member."

"Afraid not," Blackwell said. His green eyes moved precariously, up and down. Appraising. He was studying Ward. Ward tried not to give him anything to learn. "We're here to get some of the more… intimate details of John Garrett's plans. With Centipede disbanded, and Garrett dead, his first in command is the only one left with the information. And we're aware he was keeping more than his fair share to himself. So now, we need to know."

"Fine," said Ward, without hesitation. "But can we not do it here? I've been in cages a little more than I'd like and from when I was undercover here, I know there to be a pretty nice bar upstairs. I'm assuming you've crossed out the agents and taken control of the plane?"

Blackwell tilted his head, somewhat with disappointment and somewhat with amusement. "The aircraft is in our control, yes. But you'll be happy to hear the agents are indeed alive."

Skye was alive. His body pulsed with the overwhelming relief. Screaming with joy inwardly.

Outwardly, he was static.

"And why would I be happy to hear that?"

"Because we've seen the tapes. We've found the servers to the base known as "the Playground", even if we don't know where it's located. We've seen your months of imprisonment," said Blackwell, eyes gleaming darkly as he took large booted steps farther into the room. "You're a broken man, Grant Ward."

"I'm the same man," he lied. "I've been exploiting weaknesses. Playing them."

_Playing you._

"Then this should be easy for you. It's a simple question really. You left their base willingly. Restrained, perhaps, but you were prepared to hand yourself over to help them."

"To get out."

"And now here we are," Blackwell appraised, gesturing around himself with open arms. "But my first question will be answered here and now. Let's call it… a test. For your loyalty."

Ward wasn't entirely sure where his loyalties lied anymore. Maybe Skye. Maybe the team he hoped to still be a part of. Though maybe, if he was honest, just to himself.

But not Hydra.

He waited.

"What is the drug John Garrett injected himself with just before his death?'"

Ward paused. Skye would kill him. Well, Hydra would kill him too.

He would get out. Be free, but at a cost. He could never keep his promise to Skye. Never help her find her father. He would never even see her again. He'd meant it when he said he wanted to help her. As much as he wanted her to understand for the purpose of getting out of that cell, he'd meant what he'd said as well.

_Every word I tell you for the rest of my life will be the truth._

He answered _._

"I don't know."

"You do."

Ward shook his head. "I don't."

Blackwell nodded before sighing as he turned to walk out of the room. "How unfortunate."

With a flick of the wrist, a soldier moved forward with a pointed gun. A stunner.

And Ward was out.

 

He came to with a gasp, frustrated at how he couldn't control the reflex. He could have in the past, but everything was so much harder now. The way his heart would beat near out of his chest and his breathing would constrict, it was hard to get through a serious sentence without wavering.

That all multiplied when he saw his situation.

He was bound to a metal chair, and that chair in turn was bound to the ground in it's own sense. Handcuffs on his arms, on his legs. He was chained down and he wouldn't be able to move, no matter how hard he tried.

There was a man in the corner of the room, hidden in the shadows. He reminded Ward of rat in nearly every way possible. Small, twitchy, ugly. Creepy would be an optimal word.

Instruments lined the table in front of him. Sharp knives and tools that he hadn't even seen before, and he'd seen a lot. He'd done a lot to, though it wasn't his expertise. Still, that didn't scare him. He may be changed, run down, but the scariest goddamn thing in this room was the girl bound similarly in front of him.

Blackwell stood behind Skye, his hands waiting patiently at his back as he watched Ward orient himself. Skye stared straight ahead. It could have been at Ward, but he had a feeling her eyes were unseeing, unfocused. She wasn't shaking. She wasn't crying, even though her nose bled. But Ward could sense her rage.

He wondered if it was still directed at him.

"Glad to have you back," said Blackwell, now stepping beside Skye. "You appear surprised, Agent Ward. I  _told_  you we'd seen the tapes; I thought you would have expected this." He let out a breath, as though Ward had disappointed him. He supposed he had. "It appears you really have changed."

Ward didn't move and didn't budge, not an inch. Neither did Skye. He hoped she was placing herself somewhere else. She could do this. He saw it, she was trained now. She could hold herself.

Could he?

"Why  _is_ it that you would only talk to her?" Blackwell said, now directing his full attention at the girl, as though he could find the answer on her. "Is it so you could look at something pretty to distract you while you gave away your allegiance?" He glanced at Ward. Cocked his head. "No, it's deeper than that."

Skye stared. All she would do is stare. And breathe. Ward watched her chest moved up in down in even strokes, taking in as much air as she could with each inhale.

Then he hit her.

One quick, powerful jab to the side of her cheek. Skye's head turned with the punch as her hair fell over her in waves, covering the side of her face. He'd heard the gasp. He didn't hear anything else.

Grant tried to pounce. It was impulse. Old him wouldn't have done it. Old Ward wouldn't have shown the weakness, but he did. He was angry. He was so so angry for the first time in some time.

"Much deeper, apparently," said Blackwell, caressing his knuckles gently, as if Skye's soft cheek was the cause for  _their_  harm.

 _At least ten guards,_  thought Ward suddenly. He didn't know if the team could handle that, even if they could manage to find them, cloaked in midair. He looked back to the girl in front of him.

Her head still hadn't moved, the carpet of hair blocking her face.

"Skye, you're ok," Ward tried to soothe her. It was stupid. She didn't want him.

"I know I'm ok," she growled through what sounded like gritted teeth. Frustrated. He'd pointed out her weakness, her vulnerability, and it made her mad. He wouldn't do it again.

It took her a moment, but she raised her head back to position. It shook, only slightly. Only for a second. And she tried to resume her angry staring, but he could catch the panic on her face now.

"Sorry, that was rude of me," he told Skye, smoothing her hair back into place. He was trying to elicit a response from her, get her talking to get Ward desperate, but she was silent. Again, her training showed. "I'm not usually the one dealing with this sort of thing."

The man in the corner suddenly stepped forward, an anticipatory smile plastered all too eerily on his face.

"That would be me, hmhm," the man said eagerly, in breathy tones, a strange laugh passing his lips afterward. Even Skye's eyes widened with shock, but not so much in fear as with an expression of "is this guy for real?"

There was fear too, though.

"This is Agent Payne," introduced Blackwell, and Ward heard Skye snort. All eyes turned to her.

"Seriously? _Payne_?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes…" said Blackwell curiously.

"It's just that, I'm guessing he's the one that's going to be cutting into me with all those pointy objects there, so it's a little funny."

Good. Quip on your terms. Not when they provoke you. Ward couldn't even hold in his smile. Blackwell noticed this, his lip turning up in a snarl as he nodded at Payne, who in turn nodded back.

And stuck a knife into Skye's leg.

"Ahah!" she half-screamed, half-gasped. Her head craned upward in anguish. He heard her breathing, trying to control it. She gritted her teeth, set her jaw, muttered curses only audible to herself.

 _"Stop!"_ growled Ward, sitting forward in his restraints. He tried not to struggle, but he couldn't help himself. The disgusting rat-man was laughing at Skye's pain.

"Agent Payne is incredibly precise, so I wouldn't worry about her bleeding out," Blackwell told Ward. He smirked. "Or, perhaps rather, hope for her bleeding out. She's here for the long haul. Unless that is, you have some information…?"

"Don't give them a thing, Ward! Don't you dare!" Skye demanded dangerously, breathless and pained. "Even if I lose my nerve, don't give them a goddamn thing!"

 _Or I'll never forgive you,_  she left unsaid.

This was like the ultimate test: to betray Skye or to save Skye. But he knew which one she wanted.

"I won't," he promised her, voice strong and ringing truth. Sincerity. More sincerity than he'd had any other time he'd spoken with her, he noticed. It surprised him. He always told her the truth. But it sounded more real now. Solid. Even to himself.

Their eyes locked. Skye's mouth was open, she was heaving, but she saw his resolution. It seemed to calm her.

Like she trusted him.

"Oh, but that was easy. The knife cuts in, slices your nerves, and then you're fine again," said Blackwell. "Child's play."

Bullshit. They all knew it.

But Skye wouldn't say otherwise, so neither would he.

"How about we try something a little more lingering?" Blackwell continued, stepping out of the way to reveal Payne had picked up another toy: a syringe.

He peeled back the sleeve of Skye's silky pink blouse. It struck Ward as odd on the girl, but she was to go undercover. Be their eyes from a distance for the exchange. Still, Ward noticed she didn't dress as used to. More practical, field-ready outfits. Maybe this part was new, too.

As he revealed inch after inch of her precious skin, her hand began constricting into a fist. Ward's were still balled up from the use of the knife. They'd left it in her leg like a flag marking conquered territory.

"You have quite large arms," said Blackwell in passing, though Ward wasn't entirely sure why. To insult her femininity?

"All the better to hit you with, my dear," Skye sneered sweetly. The words were fairly even. She had a knife in her leg _._

"This formula is my favorite," the torturer whispered abruptly into Skye's ear with excitement, as though expecting her to return his enthusiasm. She didn't. "Travels farther. Works longer. Keeps you with us too, hmhm."

Ward watched the needle hover just above her skin.

"Did you catch that, Grant Ward? It's Agent Payne's favorite. Though, I'm wondering if she may have, perhaps, a different opinion. We don't have to find out. Just tell us what the drug is. Tell me about Centipede's secrets. What didn't Garrett want anyone to know but himself?"

Ward's gaze had never left Skye's face, even when the man spoke directly to him. When she minutely shook her head, it only affirmed what he knew she wanted. Ward dragged his eyes away from Skye to give Blackwell a cold glare. That gave him a clear answer.

So Blackwell nodded to his agent. The needle went in. Skye screamed.

Not at first. No, she braced it for a while. Unmoving, as the serum rushed through her veins like a wildfire, Ward knew. But soon the trembles started. Gritting her teeth and squirming, legs bouncing up and down like a child trying to be brave.

When she finally did let go, allow herself some release, she couldn't seem to stop.

She screamed for so long. She screamed until her voice was strained and hoarse, for minutes without stopping. Ward stared at her the entire time. His gaze couldn't shift away. He hated it. He hated watching her eyes water and her body start to shake and that horrible, cracked noise coming from her throat. He could barely register the man next to him demanding questions. But he wouldn't get answers. Not from Ward.

Though that was why the moment the girl stopped screaming, the process repeated.

And it repeated more than once. At least five times, Ward thought. Though it was hard to focus. Hard not to give in. Harder than anything he'd ever done in the past as a specialist. Which was so, so selfish to think when Skye was in her own world of pain in front of him. He had to be strong for her.

When it stopped the last time, Skye let herself slouch forward with a shaky breath, trembling. Some of the punctures were dripping blood. The man hadn't been careful.

Ward noticed her strained attempt to straighten herself, ready for the next attack, but it never came.

They were changing their approach.

Blackwell grabbed the sides of her blouse and ripped them apart, buttons spastically flying around the room. Ward was grateful she had a tank top underneath.

He feared it wouldn't be there long.

Skye hadn't flinched at the sudden attack though. Hadn't responded at all. Not even when a stray button hit her face.

That scared him more.

As Skye still focused on her measured breathing, - and what Ward hoped was focusing on trying to be somewhere else - Blackwell's hand began lifting Skye's tank up from the bottom. Ward tensed.

But he stopped.

"Well, what do we have here?" sang Blackwell.

Skye seemed to be able to ground herself somewhat when she felt his fingers graze her scar, trailing her head down to stare at them. Watch them dance over her marks.

Ward felt sick.

"Two shots I see. You brave girl. Did you like the feeling?"

Ward's jaw clenched at the horrific question. It made him squirm. Skye gave no response, she shouldn't have. The man was baiting her. But she may not have been capable of response as well.

Blackwell suddenly reached behind himself and pulled out his pistol; placing the nozzle on Skye's abdomen. The marks residing there made it so the tip fell into place as easy as if it were a puzzle piece. As if the holes had been carved specially for his weapon.

"Wouldn't it be funny to die the way you were perhaps fated to?" Ward watched Skye's face. Eyes wide. Glued to the gun. Maybe for a moment she glanced up at Ward, but they quickly retreated back to what had to be her worst nightmare. "What do you say, Grant Ward?"

_Don't lose it. If you're going to speak, be strong._

The man's voice was singsong. Taunting. That could be an interrogation method, but he'd heard of Blackwell before. He was sadistic. He enjoyed questioning those who were the hardest to break.

It would last longer.

"I say you're enjoying this too much," sneered Ward, making sure to leave out _to let her die now._  There was a balance to this. He couldn't antagonize.

Blackwell stared at him. Ward counted the seconds. One, two, three… he hit sixteen when the Hydra commander finally nodded, another infuriating smirk taking residence on his face.

"You're right. Not yet."

The man holstered his weapon. His fingers gently pulled Skye's white tank back down, and in an off-putting gesture tugged it a few extra times to make sure to smooth out the creases. It was too tidy. Too wholesome for what was going on. And even if it wasn't:

He was still touching her.

It was then that a glimpse of red and blue and orange caught Ward's eyes, and Skye's head whipped to face the colors as well.

Payne was playing with a torch blower, letting the thing breathe out its flames a few times in preparation. Or in show. It didn't matter, it was surely acting as both.

Skye whimpered. It was abrupt and short, but Ward had heard it, much to her dismay as her eyes darted down. Immediately ashamed, possibly from the sound coming in just anticipation rather than actual pain. But she was doing amazing. She was amazing.

Six months they'd been there. Six months in that base and Skye, the bubbly hacker with no reasoning for rules, had learned every protocol, become strong, become disciplined.

Ward was so proud of his rookie.

But she didn't care about that.

"Hey Skye, look at me," Ward said, and her head lifted slowly, revealing her distressed face.

Her pride had taken a beating. He'd told himself he wouldn't do it again, but she needed something. Comfort, even if it had to come from him. She couldn't go through this alone. He tried to bring reassurance by softening his face as he looked at her.

"You're ok. Just remember that."

Skye seemed to be caught between accepting the words and yelling at him for them, her stare blank as she nodded. The simplest form of an answer in silence.

_I'm ok._

"Straight or a brand?" asked Payne from behind Blackwell, who was staring at Ward.

"Do you have a preference?" he asked Grant.

Ward hadn't felt the urge to hurt someone who wasn't himself in months. He was thinking of scenarios in his head to rip the man apart, to burn him to a crisp. Or give Skye the torch to do it herself.

Realizing Ward wasn't going to answer, Blackwell did the honors.

"I think… brand."

A metal rod seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was heated, turned hot red and yellow. He watched Skye stiffen, and then it bore into her skin.

One, two, three.

Arm, hand, stomach.

They didn't waste any time with this one.

Well, apart from the long seconds they left it on each time.

It had gone straight through her clothes, burning away the fabric to sear little marks in her skin. The last one was the worst. She was shivering and dry heaving by the time they were pulling it off the area that was dangerously close to where she'd been shot.

Then Blackwell twisted the knife in her leg.

Skye screamed again.

"The information,  _Agent_  Ward!" shouted Blackwell.

The man was getting antsy. They didn't have much time.

Skye's worried glance through her anguished face showed that she knew it too.

Ward appraised her: Black eye blossoming. Bloody nose. Burns. Puncture wounds. The knife standing up in her thigh. They were burning through the methods fast. Too fast.

Blackwell's hand still lingered on the knife, fingers twitching idly, as his angry eyes bore into Ward. He wouldn't answer. The man knew Grant wouldn't answer, so long as Skye didn't want him to. And she would never want S.H.I.E.L.D. compromised.

She was staring at the man's hand. She was trembling, silently crying, near biting her lip off, but fear wasn't the most present emotion on her face. Nor was pain. Or worry.

It was contempt.

Blackwell followed Ward's gaze to see what he saw. The fury lessened in his green emeralds of eyes, and he lifted his fingers off placidly from the knife, bringing them to Skye's chin as he forced her to take in his face.

Her expression remained the same.

"Tell me, girl, where do your loyalties lie?" the Hydra man asked her.

Skye's eyes shifted down. She contemplated. Not the question, but whether or not she should reveal the answer.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." she forced out in proclamation, her cracked voice prompted her to swallow.

"And what do you hate, hmm?" asked Blackwell. "What do you despise?"

She scowled. Merely blinked up at him.

"You don't have to answer," he assured her. "A good little soldier like you, I already know. You root for the greater good. You are loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. because you honestly, truly,  _care."_

The man began taking something out of his pocket. A wallet.

No, a badge.

Hydra had badges now. Made sense, as the organization seemed to putting their brand on everything they owned. Probably a reflex from S.H.I.E.L.D. days.

"I can see why you like her, Grant Ward," Blackwell praised. "She's not just a typical soldier, oh no. We had to stop her from trying to shut down our systems when we took over this aircraft. She was hacking us right back, despite our precautions. Quite the little genius. And Hydra needs those."

He picked something out the badge, tossing the gold piece abruptly to the Payne. The tiny man almost didn't catch it, the badge flitting around his hands like a jumping bean. But eventually it landed securely in his palms, and the man looked up at the other curiously. When Blackwell gave him a pointed look, the torturer smirked in understanding as he let out another small infuriating laugh.

Skye struck Ward as confused, glancing around between the different eyes in the room. But she was bracing herself. She recognized the speech of her praise could lead to nothing good. Ward wasn't sure if she hadn't seen the badge or just hadn't put the pieces together yet, but he knew.

She gathered her nerve, snarling, "I would never work for Hydra."

The declaration was made with a spent voice, but she managed to put strength behind it.

Blackwell grinned. "You will. Assuming you don't die from this little excursion, that is.”

Skye barely twitched at the casual mention of her death.

“Still, something tells me you'll need a reminder,” he continued. “Something that tells a spirited person like you that you're now owned. Garrett was too easy on you, if you ask me," Blackwell chided, and Ward took a moment to realize he was speaking to him at that point. "And look where we are now. Hydra won't make such mistakes again."

Payne took that as his cue to turn around, grinning madly as he held out the metal rod. On it's end was the Hydra insignia. The badge.

Skye's eyes grew larger than quarters.

It was big. At least four times bigger then the poker they were already using to brand her, already using to singe her skin. The evil skull creature caught the tiny amount of light in the room in a sinister foreboding, already glowing red from the heat that had been added to it.

Suddenly Blackwell's hands smashed down on top of Skye's. The man had burned one earlier. He squeezed around the armrests, fingers clawing around her wrists. Ward watched her bite her tongue to keep from crying out.

"So every time you look in the mirror, every moment you see yourself in your own mind's image you can remember that something you despise touched you. That something you find disgusting, is on you, and owns you, forever. You won't ever be free of it. You won't be able to escape it. It's going to eat at you from the inside until there's nothing left but us. You're Hydra's property now, Skye _,_  and we're going to make damn sure you remember it!"

Skye's eyes were wide. Her trembling increased tenfold and her face looked like a silent stream as the tears poured down it. She was terrified. She was terrified and she was showing it, outwardly noticeable.

Grant made note of this all within a half a second, because at the end of his proclamation Blackwell ripped the rod out of Payne's grasp and began spearing it towards Skye's neck.

"Shit, wait! Stop!" she whimpered, and Blackwell froze just before her neck, the insignia of the creature hovering there, taunting. Skye let out a shuddering breath before her face scrunched up with tears. She looked to him. "Ward, I can't do this!" she pleaded hoarsely. "I can't have that… I can't… Please don't let them."

He couldn't stand what he'd just witnessed.

Skye broke.

Ward's heart fell into his stomach, far harder and faster than during any other moment of her torture. It wasn't her fault. Goddamn it, it wasn't her fault.

He was going to give it up. Give up everything. Everything Ward had told Skye when she came down for visits, everything he'd promised Garrett he'd never reveal. It would put a large dent in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s armor, cut down their high ground, but it didn't matter. He knew he couldn't subject her to this.

But he also knew she wouldn't forgive herself for letting him.

And Ward couldn't allow that to happen. She may never forgive him for his betrayal for being Hydra, or even now if he let them put that thing on her, but she could never forgive herself if she gave up her team. Her friends. And with the information Ward had, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be more vulnerable than ever.

"Well?" prompted Blackwell with impatience.

"Do it," Ward sneered, summoning his old self. No beating around the bush. If he gave no information, they would do it anyway. This way his nerve showed, and that was needed.

Blackwell twitched. It was the first time he'd been surprised that Ward could tell. Grant couldn't feel even an inkling of triumph though. Not when he'd just made Skye sob. Not when he'd just made her despair with his own words.

"If that's what you wish, Grant Ward," Blackwell said calmly, bringing the badge back to Skye's neck, teasing her with heat and chuckling as the girl begged hysterically for him to stop. Repeated "no" as fast as she could, her head whipping back and forth shakily. Blackwell stabilized it as he cupped her chin.

With a steady nosedive Skye's teeth found flesh in the man's hand, but it barely delayed him. Just a hiccup, just a moment more before the inevitable was coming. A tiny blip of pain was all it cost him. A backhanded slap to the cheek was all it earned her, making it only that much easier for the man to hold onto the girl's now stunned face.

Ward prayed, to whatever deity may be in the world, that the team would come. That the team would stop this. That someone would burst through that door.

But Ward didn't believe in god.

"Ward, please!" she tried one last time, shaky and spit filled her voice was. Broken, gurgled vocal chords fighting so hard to beg to him. "Please, give them something!"

Blackwell hesitated. He looked to Ward. Gauged his reaction. Ward wasn't proud of it was.

He turned away.

Skye's cry of pain was softer than previous ones. In fact, she barely made any noise at all. Maybe because she had little voice left, or because, what they both knew so well, it wasn't that the horror of this method was just about pain. Even though that was very much present as well.

Ward was unable to move his eyes away as the rod left her skin, yearning to pull some of Skye away with it as the thing left. The skull was red, irritated, large, and puffy on the skin of her neck, but it was there. It was her mark. Her burden and reminder set plainly for the world to see.

Blackwell didn't speak for a while. He walked off to the side, leaving Skye as she fought to control her sobs, choking on her own spit and harsh breathing as she attempted to quiet herself.

Ward didn't know what to say. He didn't know if words of comfort would end the small break she was getting, even if the only reason they were doing it was so Ward could watch her cry. It was still a pause in pain for her. But the method was also working, and Ward couldn't help but wonder.

Had he done the right thing?

Skye finally managed to control her sobbing enough, had her breathing at an even pace, to lift up her head to finally look at him. He waited for her eyes to trail upwards. Waited to see the hate in brown almond-shaped eyes he knew so well.

But he didn't. He didn't see anything. Not her eyes and not the men. The lights had turned off.

They were in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this posted but I am fixing some bugs and possibly making it darker, maybe inserting more mature language and whatnot... and if people really want it, I'll try my hand at smut in a later chapter, too.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	2. Empty Vessels Make the Most Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Skye's thoughts during her torment.

Skye had been ready.

Or, she thought she'd been.

They'd covered this. It had been a part of her training. Skye was a field agent now and Melinda May, the Cavalry herself, had been the one to personally mentor her. She wasn't supposed to break during interrogation.

If only her SO could see the girl now.

A pathetic, worthless, sobbing mess.

She felt disgusting. She  _was_  disgusting. Even if she made it out of here, which seemed unlikely now, they'd always be there. They'd left their mark.

Hydra singed her skin.

She felt it there. Oh, she'd certainly felt everything they did, but her newest brand held her mind's attention. Her body's too, as it was the largest. Burning hot like the sun had now relocated to her shoulder that felt as though it would never be cool again. Like it was trying to spread and fry her from the inside out.

And it was Hydra.  _Hydra._  All that she despised, what she fought to take down. And then, even the universe decided to spit in her face:

A Hydra agent had been the one to be stronger than her.

It could have been easy for him. He could have told them what they needed to know, and they would have taken down every S.H.I.E.L.D. team in the vicinity with the information. Ward could have gone with them, reclaimed his loyalty. Reclaimed his life.

But he chose not to, even when Skye begged him to comply.

She told herself she couldn't break. She told herself that if she broke Ward would too, because the information meant nothing to him so he must have been doing this for her. She'd resolved herself not to ask of course, but it had been there. The comfort. He'd stop her pain.

Though he didn't. The Hydra soldier acted higher and with more loyalty to the greater good than her S.H.I.E.L.D. training ever allowed her.

It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be the bad guy, or at least the weak one. She wasn't supposed to be the victim. Not anymore.

May had told her when the enemy had you, they'd take away basic needs. Sleep. Hygiene. Make you feel like a victim. That your body was forfeit, under their control. But the things she told her were how to hold out for days.

Skye had lasted hours.

She'd also learned from her SO that tormenters would try not to use too much physical exertion at a time. The brain would shut down. Though she supposed they switched between the physical to the psychological well enough. Skye had come close to fainting, she knew that, but she could also feel a stimulant in the drugs they gave her. The ones that itched and crawled on the inside as they burned her tender muscles and veins to a crisp. Not really. That was just how it felt. That was a  _fraction_  of how it felt.

But she'd used her teachings. Skye had looked over the items and tried to prepare her mind, her body. If they decided to use the Taser it would do no good: zen meditation and shock can't exist in the body at the same time, as May had said. You had to try and release the pain in other ways. Screaming, laughing, singing… Skye had promptly said if she were to use the last method, she wouldn't be the one being tortured anymore. May hadn't laughed. Not that it was surprising.

Skye didn't think it was very funny now, either.

Still, electric shock or not, she had to try to prepare herself. Think about the terrible instruments in front of her, expect what was to happen, and then bury it away while she removed herself. She had meditated the moment they tied her down in that dark room. She'd gone somewhere else.

Skye wasn't there for long before they ripped her back.

And she was still in the room, now.

Ward was there with her. She hated him. She hated him for what he did. Not in the past but now, when he could have saved her but he didn't.

_He did what you would have wanted_ , a small voice said inside of her. It was so small though, easily pushed away by the pain and tears that her mind was starting to believe were what made up her entire being. She tried to remind herself they weren't, but the only other thoughts that rushed their way forward to pledge to the cause were her cowardice and new status as Hydra property.

Maybe being just pain and tears was better.

The mark didn't scare her so much as the thought behind it, as she supposed she would be Hydra's property now. They would kill May and Coulson. They didn't want disloyal field agents. They wanted her for her mind.

Weak and powerless, only useful with a screen in front of her. So this was what she'd trained months for: to end up right back at the beginning, as she was. Smart, perhaps, but really just a naïve little girl.

Skye tried to crane her head upwards. See what Ward's face reflected, the emotions present. She couldn't even trust her own judgment, her own feelings, anymore. She had to look at her traitorous ex-crush to see just how lost in the woods they really were.

But the lights turned off.

Nothing but the blackness of nothing for moments. Minor seconds until the emergency generator lights flicked on, a low eerie red illuminating the room instead of the blue tint it usually boasted.

As far as metaphorical implications, that didn't bode well.

"What the hell was that?" bellowed Blackwell. Agent Payne flinched, backed away, all the while vigorously shaking his head. So he could dish it out, in about the greatest quantities that phrase had probably ever been used for, but he couldn't take his boss yelling at him? Pathetic.

Kind of like herself.

"Well, go and find-"

Blackwell didn't get to finish his sentence. The plane shifted, rough and sharp. He lost his footing and so did his partner. It was the first time their bindings actually gave Skye and Ward the upper hand.

"Get out there and find out what's going on!" roared Blackwell with a hand pointing towards the door. He'd found his footing.

"B-but I think the plane is crashing!"

"Then you'd better move fast," he sneered. The interrogator seemed petrified, rushing out of the room as quickly as he could. After all, there was a table of pain tools there.

"So, I suppose we need to finish this quickly," Blackwell said, casually stepping forward. The plane was shaking, his words told of the predicament, but there was no sense of urgency to his stance. Other than eagerness to get his answers.

Skye briefly thought to ask why he even cared when they could all die in the next few moments, but she didn't trust herself to speak. She wasn't even sure if she was capable. And despite the stimulant, she was getting so tired…

It's difficult to say how Skye managed to close her eyes with such direness around her, as the plane rumbled and shook to match her own trembling and the man in front of her promised more pain. But she must have, because all a sudden she found that a hand had pried open her jaw as she felt a cold metal bite her tongue.

Skye tried to fight him off. Tried to shake her head and remove his unwanted, uninvited fingers. But his grip was strong, unwavering like the iron now in her mouth and she was powerless to it. She gagged on the tool as her dry tongue was stretched harshly, the man pulling it hard. She felt it split and crack.

The instrument itself reminded her of something she used to pretty her face sometimes. Eyelash curlers. But the ends spread out wider than the one in her cosmetic kit would so her mouth was wedged open painfully far, far enough for a knife to gain entry.

That sat on her tongue as well.

"Time is of the essence, Agent Ward," started Blackwell, voice harsh and unfriendly to the ears. "Tell me what I want to know or I will start removing bits to this girl until she  _begs_  me to kill her."

The suggestion didn't sound too bad. Not the removing part, but the killing. She could die now; pretend to have her dignity when she went. But of course the mark would be there. She nearly forgot, somehow. There was no more pretending.

A voice in her mind halted the path of her dishonorable thoughts. Hours she'd been there. In hours they'd tricked her mind into thinking it wanted to die. The thought made her sick.

Or maybe it was the pliers touching her gag reflex.

The hold on her tongue was constricting, and if a decision wasn't made soon she was sure it would fall off from the sheer pressure. She focused on Ward. His face, his features. He was wearing a mask that was starting to wear down. Starting to twitch. She wasn't exactly sure why he was depleting now, though she supposed the thought of one not having a tongue _was_ disturbing. Not being able to talk was surely-

Skye paled.

She didn't realize. Her mind was working on back up power just as much as the plane.

Panic hit her anew, but she didn't cry. Didn't shake. She just froze, trying to be brave but at the same time knowing her stillness was more from shock. Her heart somehow beat harder as her head spun in circles. She just knew that she couldn't meditate, couldn't be zen. Not while they were threatening to take her voice and not while they had already taken her pride and replaced it with this giant, searing creature of an insignia on her neck and-

The plane shifted, knocking Blackwell off his feet. Her ogled mind registered he hadn't kept a good enough grip to take her tongue with him, and the knife had left effortlessly without touching her.

Skye found herself grateful for that.

But it was chaos. The table was moving. Sharp instruments used to drain the life from people zooming everywhere she could see even though she couldn't track them.

Maybe one of them would slice through Blackwell.

No such luck; she saw the Hydra man getting to his feet after a few moments. Unsteadily, though. Perhaps something had hit him, hopefully on the head. Preferably hard enough to cause brain damage.

Silver sped through the air. It was small. Skye only noticed it from the glint as it passed over the meager main light in the room.

The knife skimmed Blackwell's arm, crimson erupting through his shirt immediately. It was strange, the movement of the object, considering the plane had stopped jerking for the moment. Skye's eyes fell on Ward. He seemed strangely disappointed. As though a man who lost everything in a gamble.

Which, she realized, was exactly what he was.

Skye didn't know, really, if Ward was any good at throwing knives. The specialist was a precise shot for sure. But if he'd missed his mark's heart due to lack of mobility from the handcuffs or the fact that blade throwing just wasn't his forte, she didn't know.

Blackwell's angry grunt redirected her attention back to him and she suddenly wished she were looking at anything else. Fury was the only thing in his eyes now. They were locked on Ward, but he inched closer to Skye.

"Do you think this is a game, boy?" he hissed. Growled. The sound of a wolf made man, and he was ready to take down his prey. "Because, I can assure you, it's  _not!_ "

And with the last word, his hand was wrapped around Skye's neck faster than she could have seen it coming.

She tried to scream. She  _needed_  to scream. His scorching hot hand was held over her brand, prickling her neck as the wildfire spread, constricting her throat, but he was cutting off her air. Crushing her. Strangling her. Literally squeezing the life out of her and she could barely cough. She could only choke, even that was done softly. It didn't matter though. Oxygen didn't matter when her neck was burning. When it was on  _fire_.

Her eyes slammed shut. She willed herself to pass out. She just wanted to leave, hide away in her own mind. She was worthless here. She couldn't even make noise.

Worthless. Pointless. Pathetic.

The pain should have been enough to knock her out. She knew that, oh yes, she did, because people weren't meant to take this much! No, they should get a release and she couldn't, the drugs wouldn't let her and there was nothing she could do. She was powerless and under Hydra's control and her only hope was that he'd finish cutting off her air soon because even stimulants couldn't help when a body broke down for good.

But Ward was there, and he was being so good. She should open her eyes. She should see him, because she found that she really, really wanted to.

So she did.

She regarded Ward only for a moment. He was shouting something incoherently and she couldn't make it out. Her mind was screaming too loud, blocking any other noise. Besides, she'd only been gazing at him for mere seconds before her eyes were quickly redirected. The door swept open, revealing a savior with gun raised and a delicate balance of fury and concentration on his face.

Skye heard the sound of four gunshots. And they definitely weren't from an ICER.

Then, just like that, the pressure, the heat, the call of death was gone.

Blackwell stared at his chest, red pouring out from the holes Hunter had just put into him. He seemed stunned. She remembered being stunned. Being shot is stunning.

Unlike her, this man was instantly dead. Dead before he hit the ground. Well, long before he hit the ground, as he fell directly onto Skye first.

His head landed on her chest. In death he was still taunting her as he laid his rapidly cooling cheek on the newly forged Hydra symbol. Even his own chest laid into the knife she still had lodged in her thigh. It hurt, or at least it should, but pain was relative now.

She ducked her head to the side, focusing on Lance Hunter and decidedly not on the dead man that had just tortured her, sticking to her chest as she felt his fresh blood meld them together.

She'd never thought she'd be so happy to see the asshole.

Hunter, not Blackwell.

"Oh hell," he mumbled, running over to Skye as he realized her state. "Damn. They cut through you pretty quick."

Skye inwardly flinched at his wording.

She then tried to answer, though she could barely nod, head leaning back in her uncomfortable metal chair. Her adrenaline was on max levels to match her panic, but somehow relief was making an entrance into the mix as well.

Hunter only appraised Skye for a moment before grabbing Blackwell by the shoulders, preparing to pull him off.

"Wait-" Ward started, but was cut off by a yelp, which she realized came from her own mouth.

She'd started when the body moved. Hunter hadn't seen the knife. The object took advantage of this, trying to slice up more of Skye's remaining nerves as it tried to peel away with its former master.

"What the hell?" shouted Ward.

"Oh, damn." Hunter dropped the excavated knife to the floor like it was diseased.

"I thought you had experience," growled Ward, his voice starting to sound far away. "What field agent doesn't assess the situation before they do something?"

"I dunno about you mate, but when a dead body is smothering someone, it's most people's first reaction to remove it."

"You should have  _trained_ reactions."

"Just, shut it! I need to stop the bleeding."

Skye couldn't keep track of the voices. Who was bleeding? Oh, she was bleeding. That's right, she'd been tortured. She was still pulsing with waves of pain, waves of agony. How could she forget?

The pressure on her leg didn't help.

"Ow," she mumbled.

"Right, there you are!" said Hunter sounding relieved as he held down his shirt to her leg. He was shirtless. Not sure how she missed that. "Now make sure not to leave again. We'll get you fixed up."

She hoped he was right. "Fix" her. Did that mean she was broken? Like a toy. They'd played with her like a toy, too rough, and now she had to go to the little dolly repair shop.

That was almost funny.

"Skye!" the two men shouted to get her attention.

"What?" she asked, annoyed. Annoyed that they wouldn't leave her be.

"Don't go to sleep, Skye," Ward warned. She tried to find him. He was in front of her, but his voice was underwater and her head was tilting with the earth.

"But we're done," she whimpered. She didn't understand. "Fuck, I'm tired..."

"Just keep your eyes on me," Ward pleaded.

And she tried. She tried so hard, even as Hunter began working on her and everything that was in pain continued to radiate into her core. She tried to count the concerns in Ward's face, because there sure were a lot. Lots of hairs too. She tried to count those as well, though maybe that was overkill. Still, the point was she tried.

Not that it did her any good.

Her head drooped forward before her eyelids, and she managed to recover by jerking it back. But she was so sleepy. She just needed to rest her eyes.

And then her chin was on her chest.

It was so surprisingly comfortable that, even aware that she was supporting herself over the Hydra insignia, she stayed there.

Screw them. Screw them and their annoying concerned voices that wanted to keep her awake. If she slept the pain would go away. Maybe the memories would disappear. Maybe she'd wake up and she wouldn't have a hole in her leg, an evil symbol on her neck.

Skye managed through bleary vision to see Ward one last time, shouting without sound as he attempted to stand up in his bonds, before she just... let herself go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know something about how large burns feel, so I truly think that if someone were choking you over a fresh large one like that, the pain of it would take over anything else (even suffocation!)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! This is the end of the physical pain, *phew* but we got some emotional ground to cover now!


	3. Learn to Walk Before You Can Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye's first few weeks after "the incident."

"Good morning, Agent Skye."

The voice was non-decrepit. Alien. Alien as in unfamiliar, for once.

Skye's eyes weren't even open yet. Everything hurt. She was with someone she didn't know. Her sleep-dazed mind was just finally registering the symphony of beeps and otherwise stagnant silence that made up a med room.

She did, eventually, manage to open her eyes.

Skye knew this doctor. Or she should have. She was one of those in charge at the base.

"Doesn't feel too good," mumbled Skye as she shifted, testing her body. It felt achy and bruised and stiff.

The red-haired woman smiled. "That's not surprising. Do you recall what happened?"

Skye nodded. She remembered. Ward, pain, screams. Ward, pain, screams. Ward, pain, begging...

The girl tentatively lifted her fingers to her neck, feeling the bandaged burn.

"You should try to not touch that," the doctor told her quickly.

Skye dropped her hand. Sulkily. It was her burn. Her mark. Why did this lady get to tell her what to do?

"So what happened?" Skye asked. "Is everyone ok? What'd they do with Ward?"

"Everyone's fine," the woman told her gently. "Including you. You sustained some fairly major injuries, but all of them will heal in time. Other than some scarring from the burns."

Good news as that was, it didn't give Skye incredibly clear answers to her questions.

"We got the BUS back though? No one's hurt?"

The woman nodded. "All injuries were merely surface level, and Agents Hunter and Morse were able to execute a rescue with minimal kills."

"And Ward?" Skye asked, feeling she had more stock in the question than she perhaps should have. "I'm guessing they got him to the senator."

"The prisoner? Actually, I believe he's back in our vault. Though you'll have to ask someone else about the specifics."

Skye felt more relief at the answer than she thought she would've. He was here. She wasn't sure why it mattered, but it did.

She then felt the urge to ask the woman to bring her someone who could _give_ her specifics, but allowed her well being to come first. She was curious, after all.

"So what's the tally?" asked Skye. "Of injuries."

The doctor picked up a clipboard.

"Well, based on your blood samples it seems that the injections have already completely left your system, so that's good. You have two third-degree burns along with two second-degree ones. The one on your neck is definitely the largest, though luckily it was one of the second degrees."

The woman took a moment to flip through her chart, and Skye took the moment to reflect that she deemed nothing about her situation lucky.

If the doctor had taken two moments, Skye might have realized she'd been incredibly lucky, as she was alive, with no lasting damage and no one else had gotten severely hurt.

But that clarity would come later.

"And you'll have to stay off the leg," continued the woman. "We were able to repair the muscle and nerve damage so barring any unforeseen complications, it should heal smoothly."

Skye nodded. "When can I get back in the field?"

"You'll need to give yourself a few weeks at least before you go back to training. We'll gauge your progress after that."

"Weeks before  _training_? No. That's not good enough. I need to be back there sooner."

The doctor put the clipboard back into place and smiled, merely pacifying her.

"We'll see."

* * *

 

The team came to see her, one by one or sometimes two by two. The old members and the new.

Simmons had been over-protective. She checked everything the doctors already had under control. Or over control, as they were there far too often for Skye's taste.

Mack, surprisingly, came next. He brought her chocolate. She liked Mack. She didn't know him very well, but she liked him; especially with how he'd managed to help Fitz. Better than she ever could over those past months. Fitz had come with the mechanic. He was mainly silent, but managed to get out a "glad you're ok" after only one or two attempts.

May came. Told Skye they could work on non-stressful training techniques while she recovered. That was hopeful.

Hunter, Morse, Triplett… they all came to her little cot in the med bay. People she didn't know very well. It was unprecedented.

It was undeserved.

She wasn't sure if it had been a conscious effort or not, but Coulson came last. He gave her reassuring words; told her how proud he was of her. It reminded her of how close the two of them had been before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Or how Coulson had embraced her the night they'd found her father, the Director acting more like a father to her in his own right.

Lies. False praise. She didn't deserve any of that.

She'd broken.

But she realized he didn't know that. Because of Ward. Because he'd protected S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets better than she could.

She should be the one in that vault.

So Skye prepared to tell him everything. Tears welled in her eyes just at the thought, so she knew she'd cry. Probably be a complete mess when professing her weakness and failure, only proving her point further.

When they had come to pluck Skye from the crop of captured agents, May had unveiled herself to be more than just a pilot. She had two soldiers down before they knocked her out. Coulson had broken ribs. Wasted attempts to keep the girl that was too weak to be an agent from pain.

She could have told him. She should have.

But she didn't.

She kept it hidden like the scar on her neck, because Ward was the only one who had the information and, somehow, she knew he wouldn't tell. He wouldn't give her up. He might have been Hydra, but right now, she knew he was better than her. Maybe she could be considered Hydra herself, after begging Ward to give them all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets he knew.

Yes, Skye had many visitors. But the only one she deserved was the Hydra man living in their basement.

And she had yet to see him.

* * *

 

The crutches were hard at first.

The burn on her hand was the main culprit of the difficulty, but Skye managed. She had been the one insisting they give them to her. They tried to make her stay in bed, but she wouldn't stay in that cot. Couldn't. She had to still be a part of the team. And she was. Strictly hacker duties, though.

 _Exactly what you would be doing with Hydra._ That thought popped into her head a lot, whether she liked it or not. And she decidedly did not.

It had been four days.

She still hadn't seen Ward.

* * *

 

May went undercover and Skye covered comms. It was a simple mission really, almost busy work while they tried to find a lead on her father that didn't stop at a dead end, but it burned up her insides to watch the seasoned agent out there. Not because she was bad, of course not. May was renowned. But because it could have been Skye. It should have been Skye. May hated undercover.

"Just give yourself time," Bobbi had told her. "Everyone gets benched when they're hurt. You'll be back out there soon enough."

Yeah. No Hydra agent would question the blaring red flag on her neck.

But Skye'd nodded. Smiled.

_Grin and bear it._

* * *

 

On day sixteen she fell.

It was stupid. She was long used to the crutches by now, she just needed to take the stairs to see Ward. It had already taken too long. She should have talked to him by now, but she didn't want anyone to know about it. Even if she wasn't sure why.

She gave herself a quick once over as she lay at the bottom of the steps. Nothing broken, nothing shattered, no pain. She was fine.

No, wait, no. Something was missing.

Her neck was bare.

Well, only from a covering.

She frantically glanced around the vacant hall, looking for her tiny mask that hid her shame. It didn't matter if the team saw her fall down. But if they knew  _that_ was there, on her…

She picked up the stretchy white bandage quickly when she spotted it. Smoothed it back into place. Breathing heavy from the panic, she sat back. Looked around. Waited for consequences and stares and repercussions to what had just transpired.

But no one was there.

The girl sat idly on the ground, blinking, staring. She could take a moment. No one was there to impress.

When she finally decided to hoist herself up using one of the sticks, she realized she didn't want to see her one equal just yet. He'd already seen her at her worst. She could try to get a little bit better before he saw her again.

At least less pathetic.

* * *

 

"I can't help but notice, Skye," started Simmons. They were in the Playground's lab. Skye didn't know what Simmons was doing, but the hacker was checking up on a trail of bodies that could be linked to her father. "The bandage on your neck… it's been over two months. Shouldn’t Dr. Fuller have told you that you don't have to put them on anymore? I can't imagine you still need it for a burn. I could take a loo-"

"I'll ask," Skye told her roughly, before turning back to her screen. Simmons was dejected, but Skye was distracted.

Dr. Fuller had taken it off a week ago.

Skye had avoided seeing the skull at all costs. If she couldn't even bear it, how could she let anyone else?

So, stealing the wrappings from the medical supplies, each day she would cover it herself.

* * *

 

"New look?" asked May curiously. It wasn't a question Skye would think to get from her SO. Maybe she was getting suspicious after the other day's workout.

Enough time had passed where Skye could start getting into the more physical parts of her training. She didn't need crutches anymore, hadn't for a couple weeks. But she knew she was still grounded. She had to rebuild the muscles she'd lost. Because of this, her SO was still concerned when she'd worn her mission clothes to the session.

" _You're still not going out in the field, Skye."_

" _I know," said Skye stiffly, absentmindedly tugging up the hood around her neck. "I guess I just miss the outfit. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to get used to moving in it again."_

_May observed her. Almost seemed like she would argue, momentarily, but eventually she just accepted it with a small nod._

Now her suspicions seemed to be back.

"What, I can't wear a scarf?" asked Skye.

"You never have before. And you've worn that same one for three days now."

"Ok, fashion police. I'll be sure to buy a new one to give you some variety."

"Skye," May said her name, firmly but with a tenderness that was different for the agent. "Is there something you want to discuss? To talk about?"

She knew. Had she seen it? The hood could have slipped at training. May saw through her. May could see she was Hydra.

 _You're not Hydra_ , a voice reminded her. The calm it brought was momentary.  _You were just their_   _property._

_Maybe you still are._

But if Skye was having a small panic attack on the inside, she showed no outward signs of it.

"No, I don't need to talk, thanks," Skye said, near surprising herself when she crassly added, "And you're not exactly a Chatty Cathy yourself, so you probably wouldn't be the first person I'd come to anyways." Skye told her this, scowling. Sheer annoyance grated at her bones.

If May was shocked by her blunt comment, she didn't show it. Didn't say anything.

Skye just walked away. Didn't look back.

* * *

 

Skye stared at vault D. She found herself doing this often.

She was running out of excuses not to go inside.

* * *

 

"Two on the north, two on the east. The building has multiple exit routes so if Fitz can calibrate the D.W.A.R.F.s, we'll be in much better shape."

Coulson was explaining the mission. Skye should have been listening. She was going into the field again. This should have been exciting.

But everyone was staring. She never even noticed it until May pointed it out. Morse stared. Coulson stared. Fitz stared. Mack. Hunter. Simmons. Everyone was staring at her. At her neck.

They knew.

They knew what was under her scarf, her poor attempts to mask something so evil. The blue fabric with fluffy red flowers shouldn't be able to hide that.

But it  _was_  masked. It was hidden. Maybe Ward… no. Ward wouldn't do that. He barely talked to anyone but her even before, not that Coulson had ordered her to go down there since the incident. But he was the only one that…

Hunter had been the one to wrap it before taking her to medical in the first place. Of course he knew. How could she forget? How could she miss this for two months?

And he'd told them. He'd told the team.

_Hold it together, Skye. Pay attention. You're leaving in two hours and you have to know this._

She caught half. She caught enough. Maybe. They were dismissed.

Skye followed Hunter directly to his bunk, catching the door as it closed.

"Whoa, hello there," he said. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Her arm rushed to his neck; pinned him to the wall.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed.

"Why did you tell them?" she demanded, pressing forcefully.

"Tell them what? And who's them!"

"Everyone! Why did you tell them about the Hydra symbol?"

"Why would you think I'd say something about that?" he asked and Skye stared, waited for him to continue. To explain. "I know it's an ugly little thing. I thought we all just sort of decided Hydra had bad taste and left it at that."

Skye didn't like that answer. He was playing with her. She pressed her arm down harder and he held up his hands.

"Listen, I haven't a bloody clue what you're talking about sweetheart, and you're obviously having a bit of freak out but  _get off_ ," he told her sternly, shoving at her arm as she was forced to release.

She eyed him warily.

"I am  _not_ freaking out."

"Then what in the hell are you doing? You just assaulted me, you know!"

"You told them about the burn on my neck!" she accused. He looked confused. Had he forgotten?

"Everybody already knew about your neck. You had a bandage on it for months!"

"They were staring today. You were staring. All of you. Right here!" Skye said, pointing fiercely.

Hunter still seemed confused. Incredulous. Unimpressed by the explanation.

"Yeah, you've got this new scarf thing going on. It was different. People may have glanced."

"No! They were looking right at it. Staring. You all know I was burnt  _by Hydra_!" she told him, ripping off her scarf to remind him exactly of what she meant.

She was only too aware that he was the first person to have seen the thing since she'd come back to the base, in months, other than the doctor who wrapped it.

Skye hadn't even seen it. She avoided it like the damn plague, wrapping it in her stolen gauze or scarf before she made any moves toward a mirror. She'd felt it, and not just as the constant presence that it was on her neck. With fingers too. She'd swept over the coarse edges that made up the circle, skull and the multiple arms. She'd touched it so much her mind could probably picture what it looked like had she the joy of never actually seeing the logo before.

But she couldn't bring herself to really, actually, look.

Hunter seemed to calm down somewhat. Maybe he was recognizing Skye's state. Skye was starting to recognize her state.

She was losing it.

"I honestly didn't know you cared that much anyhow, but I haven't told anyone what it looked like. I mean it," he told her gently. His brown eyes darted downward, and she couldn't find a trace of cheek that seemed to always be present. "Though maybe you should."

She brushed her fingers to her neck.

"I can't…"

"Look, I'm not the best person to come to for emotional advice. But something's obviously tugging at you. Maybe you just need to settle this with Coulson or something."

Coulson?

Coulson would be the worst.

He was the director of  _S.H.I.E.L.D_., and she was walking around under his nose with a giant sign on her neck for the enemy.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just need like a release or something." She rubbed her head with rough fingers. Glanced up at him.

Hunter looked truly concerned. _Without_ someone being in immediate pain, which might have been a first... that Skye'd seen at least. Her gaze got caught in his worried eyes and she found herself staring at him longer than usual.

Dark brown eyes, good amount of scruff. In fact, undeniably attractive.

She really did need a release. And she realized, as it just seemed to click into place in her brain like the missing piece to a puzzle, she knew exactly what to do to get it.

In which Lance Hunter fit the bill for.

It wasn't something she'd done in the past. But it would feel good. Her body would feel  _good_ , instead of just echoes of needles and burns and stabbing. Even training had left her stressed now; tension built up in her core after small hits brought her to the mat.

She just wanted something simple. And good.

To release.

"Well, shooting range is probably where I'd start for-  _what_  the hell are you doing?"

"Come on, I know you want to. You check out my ass every time we do strength training."

"What?" he squeaked. "I do not - I mean, it's definitely a nice asset… but - Jesus! Would you stop taking your bloody clothes off!" Hunter exclaimed, simultaneously covering his eyes with one hand and holding out the other in some kind of halting gesture.

Skye stood, waiting, half naked and confused.

This was Lance Hunter. He hit on everything that could walk, as long as it didn't have an Adam's apple. He wasn't supposed to say no.

Skye's hand crept to her neck.

"Is it because of this?" she whispered.

"No!" he shouted animatedly. "Of course not."

But Skye considered it.

She looked down at her bare stomach; saw the scars that lined it. New and old. She saw the burns on her hand, her arm. She hadn't gotten to her pants yet but she knew what the knife wound scar looked like. Big and cracked, veiny and ugly. Repulsive.

That wasn't even counting her  _worst_  aspect.

She wasn't the same girl that could bounce up to boys and wrap them around her finger anymore. Not that she'd been much for casual sex in the past, but if she got a little drunk, she'd do some harmless teasing.

Now she was just forcing herself, unwanted, upon someone.

"I'm sorry," Skye said, eyes to the ground.

"It's fine, I promise. Just, just put your clothes back on," he told her, before hesitantly adding, "We can… talk?"

 _Put your clothes back on_.

He didn't want to look at her. He was asking her to cover up.

She repulsed him.

Whether he sounded so uncertain about asking her if she wanted to talk was because he was disturbed by her or because, well, that was just Hunter, she didn't know. It didn't matter.

Skye shook her head resolutely.

There was only one person she could talk to. One person who would understand. One person Hydra had affected as much as her.

She only had her shirt half on when she rapidly exited the room.

"Skye!" Hunter called. But she'd kept going.

She wove through the Playground, expertly avoiding anyone. If she sensed footsteps, she cut down a corridor. If she heard voices, she'd bolt into a room. There was only person she would speak to now.

Down into the vault she went, descending the stairs with fervor and sadness and confusion until she saw the wall. Using the tablet she'd grabbed, she immediately pressed the correct command and Ward was revealed to her.

The man who'd been broken but stood back up. The man S.H.I.E.L.D. threw back in a cage after what he'd done for her. She felt so vulnerable, seeing him. She felt naked. But no, not just from seeing him...

She'd forgotten her scarf.

But she realized she didn't care. Not with him. Not with the man who’d been there, who understood.

He stared at her with eyes filled with emotion. Surprise, hurt, relief, too many for Skye to find. But he didn't say anything. He was waiting for her to say something first, it seemed.

So she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. Today's my birthday! I wasn't gonna post this chapter yet but I was in a pretty good mood because of that, but I think updates are gonna slow down after this one. Thanks for the feedback and kudos!
> 
> And sorry for the lack of Ward in this chapter, next shall have Ward a plenty!


	4. Birds of a Feather Flock Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward finally gets to see Skye.

Ward was back in the cell.

He did not want to be back in this cell. His cell. The cell he'd sat for months in, with so few visitors it had made him feel as though his being entire was made up of merely sitting in strained anticipation for someone to make an appearance.

One girl in particular.

But that didn't matter. The dreary predicament of being in his cell was mere background noise compared to what was causing him an epitome of worry.

They'd taken Skye away before they even got him out of the handcuffs. It had been like he wasn't even there. Ward had assumed the man that had ended her torment and killed Blackwell to be Hunter, as Skye had let his name slip in the past.

The damn mercenary couldn't even tell when an agent had a knife in her leg.

But because he’d unintentionally twisted it, caused Skye to bleed and to lose consciousness, Ward had barely been a blip on the new agent's radar of concern as the man found a way to unchain her. After haphazardly fixing her up, he'd taken her carefully out and away with the aid of another agent, a blonde woman.

Skye had appeared profoundly broken when they took her away from him, and not just from the way her body hung completely limp in the man's arms as he carried her away.

It was her pale face dripping in sweat. The way her clothes were ripped and fell tattered from her still form. The breathing Ward strained to hear but couldn't quite make out, though he prayed the movement he saw in her chest wasn't just his mind playing tricks due to some mad hope.

The blood. The bruises. The burns.

The way Hydra had stamped her like cargo ready to be shipped.

Ward prayed S.H.I.E.L.D. could fix her; wished he could follow them. He wished he could know what became of Skye as the man carried her out of the interrogation room, the blonde pressing down on the injured woman's thigh as they went.

And though soon enough the soldiers came for him, they gave him no information. They merely took him back to the small hole he'd come to think of as a dull purgatory, transformed into hell as they threw him in to stew in the dark with no inkling as to what became of his old rookie.

He didn't have to sit with his thoughts alone long, as S.H.I.E.L.D. soon asked Ward what happened. They asked him for details on how Skye got into the condition she was in. What exactly had happened, what Hydra wanted. But he wouldn't answer. He wouldn't give them anything.

Because they wouldn't tell him about Skye.

They wouldn't tell him if she was alive, if she was paralyzed, if she'd been sent away.

They wouldn't tell him a goddamn thing.

"What happened to wanting to talk, Ward?" Coulson asked simply, not bothering to take the seat in front of his transparent cell. "Thought we were rebuilding trust, as you put it."

Grant knew being completely silent would only infuriate the man. So, he spoke.

"You shot that idea down pretty quickly when you tried to send me to my brother."

"Well, your brother had a Hydra mole in the mix, and here we are again," snapped Coulson, gesturing to Ward in the cell. "So what was it that was so important you wouldn't give them the information? That you wouldn't do the only thing you've been trying to do for months, and get out?"

Skye was the answer to every single question he was asking. It wasn't the information. Ward didn't give a shit about Garrett's precious intel, the man was gone. Skye was there. Skye was S.H.I.E.L.D., and Skye would have suffered if he gave them anything.

Suffered more.

But as much as Skye was the answer to Coulson's questions, she was to Ward's as well.

"Or maybe you just didn't want to go back to Hydra. Be their pet again," continued Coulson. "Not so worth it without an SO that will watch your back, I take it?"

_No, it wasn't._

"But I'm just shooting in the dark. I won't know unless you tell me. You have to work with me here Ward. We don't need a repeat of those three weeks."

"I will tell you everything. Everything that went on in that room," Ward told him. It was a slight lie. He didn't plan on going into the details of Skye's torment. Coulson wouldn't want to hear it, Skye wouldn't want him to know. "In exchange for one thing."

Coulson scoffed. "You think you can make demands now?"

Ward cocked his head. "Not demands. A deal."

"Not that this is going to happen, but humor me. What are your terms?"

"I only want to know what happened to Skye. If she's ok, just… anything you can tell me."

Coulson considered this. Stared at Grant long and hard, with an expression similar to the one he'd worn when Ward had told the man he still was a part of the team. When the director had disagreed with him, heatedly.

"Please, Coulson. I just want information."

"No."

"What?" asked Ward, genuinely surprised. "I'm not asking to see her, I just want know-"

"Stop talking!" Coulson snapped. "You are  _done_  making deals. You were supposed to be  _gone_ when you ran out of information before. Skye's already told us Hydra didn't get what they wanted. If you want to answer my questions, add to your delusions that you're part of this team and try to help, then do it! But it's not necessary for us to know. You  _have_ nothing. You can't barter anymore."

Coulson was on a roll and clearly not done with his rant just yet, but Grant took a moment to take stock of what he'd just said. The man had, in fact, inadvertently given Ward at least a piece of what he wanted to know. Coulson said Skye had given him information.

Which meant she was at least alive.

The director moved a couple of feet, almost pacing. Though not quite. He pressed fingers into his forehead.

"And even if you could make a deal, the last thing you are ever going to get is Skye. So long as it's in my power I will give you no information about her, let you talk to her, or even see her. This obsession is sick, Ward, and I'm putting a damn end to it!"

Coulson looked at him with exasperation, the rough proclamation signaled that he was done with the tirade, but Ward didn't know what to say.

He certainly wasn't expecting the small outburst Coulson had made, though the shock was momentary as realization set in. The director must have been just as worried and concerned for the injured hacker's well being as he was. Ward had noticed the man had affections for Skye. Strong. Near paternal.

His refusal of Ward's terms made sense then. Coulson was taking out his anger and fear for Skye on the only person who'd been present when she’d been hurt. Maybe he thought it had been Ward's fault.

Which in reality, it was.

If Grant hadn't insisted he'd only talk to her in those weeks prior, Hydra wouldn't have recognized their connection. Known how much he cared for her.

Skye wouldn't have been tortured.

But Coulson's frank upset made Ward wonder further, as the man seemed sincerely  _angry_. Ward knew Skye was alive now, but if Coulson was letting himself off the rails in worry...

What was her condition?

This was him being told he was going to his brother all over again. Losing Skye from his life all over again. Except this time, he didn't know what her health was. If she'd be ok.

But this time he had more information, despite Coulson trying to scare him into thinking his intel was worthless. He could hold out. He did want to prove to Coulson he wanted to help, but…

He wanted Skye more.

Skye anything. Skye information, talking to Skye, hearing about her. It didn't matter. And as long as there was a chance for any of that, he wouldn't speak. Not without the deal. He didn't speak for three months before and they'd sent her eventually. He could do it again. Even if it destroyed any progress that they’d made, even if it ruined their only semblance of trust. He wasn't sure if they actually had made progress, but if they had, it would be gone.

Ward then recognized that he  _was_ obsessed. And it may have been sick; an unhealthy obsession, like Coulson had said. But it was all he had. The only incentive to be good, to be a good person, so he clung to it.

He stayed quiet.

Coulson left.

Two months passed.

He was down there to rot for his silence with not a clue as to how Skye was faring. She had been making fairly frequent visits to grill him for intel before, though those were certainly meant to stop when he was to leave. Go to his brother. But he'd run out of impertinent intel now. Even if he hadn't, he didn't expect Skye to come down. How could she? Not after what Ward had done. What Grant had _let_ them do.

She'd begged him not to do it. He still did. He told Blackwell to put that thing on her.

Then the man did as Ward said, and Skye would never be the same. She had to be disgusted with him and he wouldn't blame her. He could never blame her.

There had been weeks of trying to talk to her about her father. Trying to convince her that they could be useful together, find the man together, just so she would like and trust him enough to let him out to help her. But none of that mattered now. Any progress they'd made, any tiny inkling that Skye may have started to put trust in him. It would be gone now, but that was fine.

Because Ward knew it was better for Skye to be disgusted with him than hating herself.

Which was why he was so shocked when she finally ran down the stairs to his cell, frantic as a child fleeing from monsters in the dark.

Why he was shocked at the first words that fell out of her mouth.

"Thank you," she whimpered, seeming to be on the verge of tears.

Of course, Ward barely even heard the words at first. He had to process, process that the girl was in front of him. She was alive and standing and virtually unscathed.

The relief was overwhelming.

Despite her obvious decrepit emotional state, she seemed ok. Stable, physically. Everything on her appeared in working order. A harsh burn marked her hand, but she had two working legs. The scar on her neck was prominent, though her voice sounded fine. The damage didn't seem permanent as far as handicapping.

But her hair seemed uncared for. Her shirt wasn't pulled all the way down, as though she'd been in a hurry to put it on. Her eyes were wild. Physically, she appeared fine. Her mentality may have been a different story.

After his cursory observances, he pondered her words.

What could this girl honestly be grateful to him for?

"What?" he asked, breathless and truly curious.

"I should have come earlier... I know I should have. I just couldn't bear seeing you," she said regretfully.

While this didn't erase his confusion for her gratitude, this made sense. He expected it. She hadn't come down because he'd let them touch her. He'd let them mar her, from the scar on her neck to the memories he was sure haunted her nightmares now.

They haunted him.

"God Ward, I'm so sorry!" she cried out of the blue.

Grateful  _and_  sorry?

Maybe she forgot whom she was talking to.

"You're not the one who should be sorry," he stated simply. "I let them do that to you. And you asked me not to."

She seemed to despair over the comment, like he’d opened a wound she'd been nursing.

"I know," she said in a horrific whisper. " _I_  asked  _you_  to give up information, about my organization. Where my loyalties are. And you didn't!"

"I'm so sorry Skye, I-"

A growl erupted from her mouth. It cut him off immediately.

"You aren't supposed to be sorry! Not for this!" She ran a hand through her hair, paced the front of his cell frantically. "I broke, Ward! I begged a Hydra agent to give up S.H.I.E.L.D. confidences after just a few  _hours_."

Her face was full of such raw despair, Ward didn't have the heart to tell her.

They hadn't been in there even one hour.

"But you didn't tell them," Skye continued. "They could have helped you... you could have gotten out of here! You… you were better than me," she told him shakily. "I couldn't take it. I would have let them take everything I had if they'd asked me, and  _you_ made sure they didn't get what they really wanted."

"I only did it for you, Skye," he told her, because he didn't know what else he could say. It was the truth. "But I'm not better than you. You know that."

This was wrong. He was supposed to have saved her from herself. Ward was aware she hated him. The girl had made her disdain clear enough on every visit she'd made in the months prior. So if she was apologizing, thanking him…

How much did she hate herself?

"You are though," she said quietly, as if almost just realizing it to be truth herself. But it wasn't the truth. He wasn't better. "Because I didn't tell them," she admitted in hushed tones.

Ward didn't understand.

"Tell who?"

"Coulson and the rest," she whispered, sounding near horrified. "I didn't tell them what you did. All I told them was Hydra didn't get any information. I think… maybe... I think they assumed Blackwell interrogated  _me_ , and that I just didn't break. I couldn't tell them you were… what you did. For us."

Ward blinked.

"That's ok."

"No, it's not! They think I'm brave. I'm disgusting, Ward! I'm  _just_  like you!"

Well, that was somewhat confusing. One moment she was saying he's better than her, the next they're both disgusting.

"You may have been down here for being a traitor for Hydra before, but now it's because I couldn't tell the team that you held up. That you stood strong for S.H.I.E.L.D. As much as you betrayed us and lied to us before, you really did step up here. And I couldn't tell them because I'm  _ashamed_? What kind of person does that to someone else!"

Ward couldn't help but notice the amount of times Skye's hand went to her neck. How every time she said the word Hydra, mentioned his allegiance, her fingers would drift there. It was like a constant presence weighing her down.

Her next words made him near wonder if she could read his thoughts.

"I guess Hydra's a part of both of us now," she said, sounding resigned.

She was so vulnerable. Looking up to him.

It was his chance.

He could use this. Tell her she's right, convince her to let him out of there. It would be so simple. She'd readily accept it.

But he couldn't. Not to her. Not when it was so  _so_ far from the truth. Not when it would break her more.

"Hydra is  _not_  a part of you," he told her firmly. She glanced up at him and there was a clear anger in her eyes. She didn't like being told she was wrong, but it had to be said. "And you are  _not_  disgusting."

She scoffed. "Don't you get it Ward? We are the same now. Or at least… equal."

"You-"

Her voice bellowed easily over him.

"I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they broke down. You're a Hydra soldier who stepped up. You and me, we're on middle ground. Were both scarred by…  _them_ ," she said spitefully, her hand rubbing deep into her neck now. "We’re a matching set. I've just got a mark to prove it."

* * *

 

Skye came down nearly every day after that. Sometimes twice a day. She didn't grill him for information. She didn't ask him much at all. She'd just talk.

And she'd let him talk. It was organic. It was strange.

The first time was nearly awkward. She didn't have anything abrupt to say like she had the day before, no gratitude or apology. It seemed that she merely wanted to see him. She walked down the stairs, gently taking off a scarf she'd had wrapped around her neck and stuffing it into her jacket pocket, just before sitting down on the metal chair across from him. But she'd seemed more confident, more built up than she had been a day earlier.

And she'd said, "What's up?"

To which of course Ward didn't really have a response, considering his days pretty much consisted of waiting for something, anything, to happen, when nothing did.

Until now.

And it became a routine. He knew she would come. At different times sure, but she would be there every day. Ward even got a small warning before her presence, because the camera's green light would turn off. It's also how he knew she was doing this without Coulson's permission. That could be bad. That could be bad for both of them.

He didn't ask her about it.

"I'm sick of having to get up every day at four am," Skye groaned.

"I'm actually a little surprised that you do," admitted Ward, and Skye grinned.

"May's strict.  _Much_ stricter than you were, despite that you may have led yourself to believing you had the most rigorous training plan for a rookie. You really weren't that tough."

"I never thought I had a ridiculously hard training plan for you.  _You_  thought that."

"Well… pull-ups can be hard without motivation," she defended. "Anyway, now that Hydra's around and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sort of a disaster, we won't have to worry about lacking motivation for a while."

She would talk like this. Casually. As though nothing fazed her. Not Hydra, not Ward being a traitor. Not what had happened to her just a few weeks ago, as if she didn’t think of these things they wouldn’t have existed. Though, she would bring up memories from the past on the BUS as easily as if they were old friends needing to catch up.

She also never brought up anything specific. She never brought up missions or current going-ons. She barely talked about the other teammates, save for training with them. She may have been letting go, but she was also keeping herself guarded.

"I honestly don't understand why you get up every day at 5:30 to do your workouts," she continued. "You literally have  _all_ day! And it's not like the time makes a difference, being in no windows and stuff anyway…"

"Right. Time doesn't make a difference, and my body's internal clock is just set that way. I don't see why I shouldn't just do what my instincts tell me to."

She shrugged, looking pleased enough with the information. Her phone gave a little chirp and she turned her head toward it.

"Well, my  _external_ clock is telling me I have to get going," she told him, standing up from the chair.

"Quick visit," Ward observed.

"Stuff to do. Things. You know, the usual. Just more of it."

He nodded. "I understand. There  _was_  a time when I had stuff to do, too."

"What about things?" she asked wryly.

He grinned. " _And_  things."

She smiled in amusement, grabbing her scarf from her pocket as she began to wrap it around her neck.

Every day. Every day she would take it off when she came down and be sure to put the fabric back to perfection as it hid the scar. It almost made him feel flattered, that she felt so at peace or comfortable around him to reveal something she obviously found to be a weakness, or repulsing. She was in the right of mind to feel that way too, because Ward didn't care about some burn.

Skye seemed to have thought it made her a worse person, having it there. As if because of some mark on her skin Hydra now owned her. So maybe he shouldn't be flattered. Maybe it just meant that she was ok with him seeing it because there was no one there to impress.

But why bother?

Why bother taking it off every time she came down? Or even putting it on in the first place. Was it that important the rest of the team didn't see it?

Grant knew the answer was yes, but he couldn't bring it up. Not when what they had was so fragile, so precious. He couldn't do anything to ruin it. Though he couldn't help but wonder, with so many secrets and hidden burdens she was keeping: maybe she was ruining herself.

* * *

It was two days later Ward decided to ask, as Skye descended the stairs. The scarf was removed but she hadn't gotten it into her pocket just yet.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

She froze. Her eyes grew wide.

"Do what?"

"You know what."

Her gaze drifted to the side. She started picking at her nails. All the signs of nervousness that she'd been so careful to avoid these past weeks. Ward hoped he hadn't opened a can of worms he shouldn't have.

"They just can't know. And you already do, so… I use the scarf."

"What do you mean they can't  _know_?" asked Ward. "They have to know... what you went through. Don't they?"

"They all know I was tortured," she said bluntly, arms crossed. "They know I was burned and poked and stabbed. They  _don't_ know I was marked. Or at least… what with."

This was what Ward was afraid of.

"Skye, it's just a scar. You're a field agent. We all have scars," Ward explained as calmly as he could.

Her eyes narrowed.

"We're not discussing it Ward. I'll walk up those stairs right now if you say another word about it."

"Skye-"

She rubbed her hands through her hair heavily, reminding him of the first night she visited him down there. How emotionally unstable she'd seemed.

"Please, don't make me think about it. Not here," she asked him, somehow firm and so vulnerable at the same time. He noticed her breathing pattern become slightly erratic.

"Just... let me say one thing," Ward offered. Skye considered a few moments, dark eyes staring through her wild hair that had fallen before her. But she nodded. Curiosity got the better of her.

As usual.

"If you don't want to show them, at least tell them. Secrets weigh you down and you don't need to keep this one. They're your friends and they are not going to judge you."

"You don't even know most of them," she scoffed. "How would you know what they're going to think?"

"Because no one, not one person, would blame you for it. The only blame, the only  _guilt_  you feel is because you're telling yourself you have to. And you don't."

She seemed incredibly skeptical, and Ward couldn't help but wonder what she had been filling her own head with since the incident. He could tell she'd allowed herself to stew, to be alone and to think. And when you have no other side to the argument, it's so much easier to convince yourself of your faults. Or sometimes, convince yourself they weren't as bad as they actually were.

Ward knew from experience.

But before he could truly appreciate even Skye's physical response to his words, he noticed something. He noticed the green blip on the camera, and he noticed the now incredibly blaring fact that it was not absent, as it should have been.

"Skye, did you remember to turn off the cameras today?" Ward asked.

At first she seemed confused, but then grateful for the subject change as her face softened.

"I don't just  _turn off_ the camera. I use a rerouted proxy, showing you from a few hours earlier, so there's something on the screen. But yeah, of course."

"Look," Ward told her.

She turned around. Turned around to observe the camera, take in that something was different from their many earlier visits. But that wasn't the only thing to observe. Because at the very moment she spun herself about the door could be heard opening, and the girl quickly redirected her eyes to the source of sound. The source of light revealed Phil Coulson stepping down the stairs.

And the director was not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think :) This chapter isn't one of my favorites but still... like to hear from you!


	5. Those Who Keep Company With Wolves Learn to Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson finds out Skye's been seeing Ward, and the team visit a pub.

She'd go on missions. She'd do ok. She could hold up out there, where everything was fast-paced and life or death, there was no choice. It was be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, do your duty, help you team, or die. Simple as that.

But the base was anything but simple. Or maybe just  _too_ simple. Everything was slow and there was so much time for thoughts, for talking. For simple living. But not really, actually, simple. Not when she felt the need to hide every moment. She couldn't be in her hooded field outfit in there; she was exposed.

And the more Skye went about this "simple" living, the more she realized how messed up everyone around her was too.

Coulson's writings were getting worse. May had to take time out of their training to help him, as he refused help from anyone else.

FitzSimmons… well, they weren't FitzSimmons anymore, really.

Fitz was more or less the same as always since they’d been in the Playground. Perhaps he'd been improving. Skye honestly had a hard time talking with him - even before _her_ incident- but now, she plain avoided him. And Simmons was just an unhappy, small piece of her old self.

Morse and Hunter… well, something was certainly going on there. A rekindling something. A loud rekindling something that was pretty impossible to miss. That was probably the only good change that had been going on.

Yes, everything that seemed to be going wrong was with their original little team, the ragtag group.

So how could she just ignore the one they kept in their basement?

He'd been awful, yes, but he'd been damaged too. They'd all changed. Ward's process had just begun early. He was just molded from the moment Garrett picked him up as a child. Skye knew that now. She'd known it for a while actually, but now she could understand it. Now she could recognize that he'd been manipulated and conditioned and just… broken.

But she saw passed that. There  _was_ good in him.

But he’d messed up, and the world demanded he pay the price.

A price she deserved to pay, too.

So, as everything in the base blared massive alarms of upset and disturbance from the people that resided in it, she would sneak away to the basement. Play pretend, because she knew he would too.

They could pretend that neither was weak and easily beaten. That neither had done something wrong. That Hydra didn't ruin them. And she could have release for a little while every day, with the man in the basement. No one had to know.

Until someone did know.

"Sir," was all Skye said, shocked from his presence.

"Skye, what the hell are you doing?" Coulson asked, voice dripping in disbelief as he began traipsing down the stairs.

She glanced back at Ward. He seemed nervous. Nervous he may be in trouble.

Or nervous their game of pretend was coming to an end.

"We're just talking," Skye defended lightly.

Coulson scoffed.

"You needed to go behind my back and reroute a looped feed just to  _talk?_ "

At first Skye didn't say anything, realizing that did sound a little ridiculous. But she thought about it.

And that was 100% the truth.

She nodded meekly.

"Skye, he manipulates. He deceives. And now it's rubbing off on you, obviously. Nothing that comes out of his mouth is the truth."

Skye got angry now. He was saying these lies with Ward right there.

" _Everything_  that comes out of his mouth is the truth. He has not given me one wrong piece of information since we took out Garrett; he's been sincere. Unlike the rest of you!" she exclaimed.

Coulson blinked, not comprehending.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well first off, you're all trying to hide secrets that are plain on your sleeve. I  _know_  you're getting worse Coulson. And I know the only person you're confiding in is May, but to be honest I don't know why. I could be there for you!"

"We have it under control; no one needs to be burdened with that," Coulson attempted to reason calmly. "Especially not you."

Skye gestured eagerly in front of herself. He was proving her point for her.

"That's the other thing. You think I don't notice how you all walk on eggshells around me? Well guess what, I do!"

Calm demeanor gone, his voice held nothing but firm explanation.

" _That_  is something you need to fix on your own. If you present yourself as someone who people need to be wary of Skye, that's exactly what they're going to do."

Skye's anger fell away; shoulders slumped.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"You've been different. You  _act_  different, like something's weighing you down. You don't speak the same, and frankly, you're just plain angry. I don't think I've heard you say a joking comment that didn't have actual malice towards a colleague in months."

Skye blinked, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. He continued.

"But you won't accept therapy. You won’t talk with us. You won't accept our help at all. Honestly, I think if I  _had_  told you about my… episodes getting worse, there's a pretty good chance you would've brushed that off your shoulder as well."

"I… I didn't realize," Skye stated, near horrified. How could she not notice such a change in her own actions? Maybe she was a little moody lately, and sometimes she woke up with an extra edge from the nightmares, but she didn't notice she'd been taking it out on anyone.

She certainly didn't feel that way with Ward.

"No one blames you," Coulson explained. "But if anyone's walking on eggshells, it's because you're setting them up yourself."

Skye wasn't sure what to say.

How bad had she been? She figured she'd mainly been avoiding them. That was definitely true, she didn't really talk to any of her teammates unless the situation called for it. And no one usually tried to talk with her, but now she could see why...

Skye noticed she'd been pacing, then. But she didn't notice her other quirk until she saw Coulson staring at her. Until he pointed it out.

"Something wrong… with your neck?" Coulson mumbled.

Skye froze.

Her hand was already on her neck, and she realized from what seemed like sudden irritation there that she'd been rubbing it as she'd paced.

She kept her hand resolutely in place.

She was facing away from the door when her pacing had come to a stop, Coulson behind her. She looked to Ward. He smiled. A tiny thing, but he actually smiled. It was meant to be one of reassurance, she knew, and she supposed it was because he was getting what he wanted in Coulson finding out. But Coulson couldn't find out. How could he look at her again?

Worms crawled through her stomach at the thought, uncomfortably tickling her as they trailed up to her face. Turned into tears that hid unshed behind her eyes.

She felt the leader's presence before he actually touched her, his touch so gentle as his fingers grazed Skye's hand, softly pulling it down away from herself. She allowed him to.

It was in plain sight now.

She couldn't bear to look at him, or even Ward, trying to be her rock. She just gazed to her feet. That didn't stop her from hearing the hurt, the  _pain_ , in his voice when he finally spoke.

"They branded you?" Coulson asked in a whisper.

And Skye couldn't hold it in. The tears fell down, her lip quivered. He'd just said it, so plain, even if his rueful pursed lips made Skye think he'd like to take back the wording. But there it was. In perfect English, laid out neatly in front of her.

Hydra was proving how weak she was,  _again._

"I just assumed it was the same as the burn on your hand. I didn't even think…" His eyes widened. "The scarves… oh, Skye."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she pleaded for forgiveness, shrugging out of the friendly hand Coulson had placed on her shoulder. Backing up. Hugging herself.

"Hey, hey. Skye!" He tried to soothe her, tried to get closer. She kept ducking away, as her breathing headed towards frantic. "What on earth are you sorry about? For not telling me?"

"For being Hydra!" she said, and even she knew that didn't make sense. At least not to anyone but herself. "For… for letting S.H.I.E.L.D. down," she mumbled in amending, but her next sentence surprised even herself. "I couldn't hold up! I tried to give them the information. I couldn't have it on me. I couldn't have  _this_ on me. I broke, and they still did it. I broke and it's there anyway."

She shook. The very thought of the thing on her neck, Coulson staring at it...

"Skye, it's ok," her leader said, near chasing her now with how badly he obviously wanted to pull her into a hug. He couldn't do that. He couldn't be anywhere near her, the disgusting thing on her skin. She wouldn't let him. "They didn't get the information, you did well."

"Because of him!" she growled and pointed, though it wasn't meant to be accusatory. It was meant to be firm. Meant to prove to Coulson who was strong, who was weak. Who was taking steps towards redemption and who was a hidden failure.

She tried to appease Coulson's angry gaze. "He protected S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets when I couldn't. He did the right thing. I know I paid the price, got hurt, but that's the right thing to do. That's what a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is _supposed_  to do."

Skye could so easily be sobbing then, but she held it in. She had to show him, and herself, she wasn't completely broken, completely beyond repair. She had some strength left.

Right?

"And I didn't tell you! I couldn't keep my mouth shut when I needed to, and then I couldn't open it to give him the credit he deserves," she berated herself. She looked to Ward, staring at her with something like intrigue. This was her chance to make it up to him. "Coulson, he did so well. He's… there's good in him. I can see it. We need to give him a chance. I know I've been selfish. Coming down here just to talk to him for my own catharsis, and that was wrong but… honestly, we need to give him a chance!"

There was a silence. It was deafening, as Skye had been so loud moments earlier. But she'd said her piece. All she could do was wait for Coulson to say his. Or Ward, even.

"No, we do not need to give him a chance."

"What?" Skye was breathless with disbelief.

She was sure Coulson would do this for him. For her. Why wouldn't he do this for her?

"He is  _manipulating_  you, Skye!"

She shook her head. Disbelieving.

"No he's not! How could he be? He didn't know if we were going to make it out of there-"

"Exactly! So he set the footwork down in case you did. He used your vulnerability against you, so you would vouch for him."

"Coulson." Ward's voice. Firm.

He was finally defending himself.

"I would  _never_  intentionally try to get Skye hurt, just so-"

But the director wouldn't let him defend himself.

Coulson grabbed the tablet, and after a button was pressed the grid spread out in front of Ward. His mouth moved but there was no sound.

"Hey!" Skye protested, grabbing at the air as Coulson moved away slightly, merely holding up a palm to signal her to stop.

That was frustrating. Coulson wouldn't even let the man get his view across.

Then he ignored  _her._

"Let's go, Skye," he told her softly, resigned. Like they had just finished a conversation with complete closure and were on the same page.

They weren't even in the same book.

"No," she told him firmly. "You're not giving Ward a chance."

Coulson rounded on her, frustration etched clear with the lines in his face.

"Do you need to be reminded of all he's done? Do you need a list of crimes? What he did to FitzSimmons, to all of us-"

"I'm  _well_  aware of what he did.” After all, it was hard to forget being a kidnap victim. “No need for the play by play."

"Then why would you think he's doing anything else but playing you? You know his only goal is to get out of that cell. He’s using your damaged state to exploit you!"

Skye was taken aback by that. This was _exactly_ why she couldn't let anyone see.

He thought less of her.

"You think I'm damaged?" she asked accusingly, incredulously, even though she'd expected it. But she hadn't expected him to admit it. "You find out about my scar and all of sudden I'm just some broken goods?"

"No, I find out you're  _hiding_  a scar, meeting with a Hydra soldier behind everyone's back and were planning to free him."

"I wasn't planning to free him, just suggesting…" she mumbled.

"It shouldn't even be a conversation," Coulson told her. "But he's gotten into your head. He is taking advantage of you Skye."

He sighed, perhaps frustrated he couldn't get through to her. But there was nothing to get through. Skye knew what Ward had been. She knew what he was now, or what he was at least working towards, and she knew she was right.

"You are going to stay away from this vault," he told her firmly. "You're going to stay away from  _Ward_."

"You can't order me around in here!" Skye exclaimed. "He's not just some piece of information you can hide away from the lower level agents with less clearance."

"There aren't any more levels, I-"

"You got rid of them, I know. But there are levels, aren't there? You just got rid of most of them. You put yourself at the top, where you could order all the little people around. Wanted to be director so you can have all those puppets at your disposal, huh?"

Skye was breathing hard from her mini rant. Coulson just stared.

"You done?"

"Yes," she said begrudgingly, sparing a glance at Ward. He looked sort of… lost. But of course, he had no idea what was happening in the conversation.

Coulson sighed, having the gall to try and place a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away.

"I'm sorry you feel this way Skye. I hope you realize… I'm doing what's best for you."

"I realize you're trying to. But you're wrong."

He exhaled again, and Skye knew their conversation would just be going in circles if they continued. She glanced back at Ward. He watched with just as much interest, just as much stock in the conversation, though he couldn't hear a word they were saying.

She stormed passed Coulson and started up the stairs. He trailed behind. As she found herself glancing for a last fleeting look at Ward, her scarf, left idly on the ground, caught her eyes. She turned around.

"Skye," Coulson warned. Her head snapped up.

"I'm just getting my…" The words died in her throat.

Ward was shaking his head. He couldn't speak, at least to the point that it would reach her ears, but she knew exactly what he was trying to say.

_Let them know._

Could she do that for him? She couldn't get him out of that cell. But she supposed… if this was what he wanted. She owed him. She needed to at least try.

So Skye didn't pick up the fabric. She left it there, lonely and tangled on the ground.

It never saw her neck again.

* * *

Two weeks.

She'd listened to Coulson for two weeks.

She didn't attempt to see Ward. It would be a stupid excursion anyway, with the team all aware and watching for her to go down there. And now that they all knew about her brand, she couldn't afford for them to think she'd break down and do something that would clearly end in failure. She wouldn’t allow them to think she was so weak.

But as much as she wouldn't break down and try to see Ward, she wouldn't break down on Coulson's other "request."

"I'm requiring you to see Dr. Laredo."

"The therapist? No way."

"It's not a suggestion anymore, Skye."

"You can keep me from seeing a S.H.I.E.L.D. prisoner, sure. But you cannot make me go talk about my  _feelings._ "

"If I deem you unstable, I can."

She paused.

"If I go, will you let me see Ward?"

He paused.

"No."

"Then I won't."

"I told you, it's not a request."

"Well, what happens if I don't go?"

"Then… you'll be grounded from the field."

"Done."

And she hadn't gone into the field since that conversation, though still helped from the computer. Helping like she had just after she'd been hurt. Like she'd be helping Hydra if they'd kept their hands on her. But she knew, and often told herself, at least this was her choice. Even if the choice she had to make was caused by limited options.

_Two weeks._

She needed out that base.

"I need a beer," she announced, one particularly quiet night when many of the team were lounging in the common area.

They all looked shocked. Maybe because it was a random proclamation, or maybe because she'd spoken at all.

"Well, plenty of that in the fridge, love," Hunter told her, gaining a small glance from Bobbi at the term of affection he'd used.

"Only if you like Old Peculiar," added Trip.

"What?" Skye asked.

"Some English crap. It's his."

"Oh, that's rich," said Lance. "Make fun of the British alcohol. You do realize that  _Bud Light_  is basically the equivalent of water in England? Or, anywhere in Europe actually…"

"Guys," Skye interrupted. "I want to go out. Like,  _out_  out. To a bar. Anyone game?"

Morse smiled sweetly. "That's sounds great, Skye. I could use an unwind. What do you boys say?"

In the end they agreed, and though Skye had to go searching for her, Simmons joined them as well. Fitz and Mack were busy working on something, though. Something Simmons seemed to shift uneasily about when it was brought up. Maybe she wasn't entirely comfortable with their partnership.

Skye didn't get too dressed up, though it was the first time she was leaving the base in two weeks, and much longer to be leaving on something other than S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Still, she picked a simple blouse.

No scarf. No bandage. The world was going to see.

The team had already seen and assured her they didn't think less of her. Skye tried to believe them, as she was honestly trying to cope. She was trying to deal with it sitting on her, the thing feeling near as hot as the moment it was seared into her skin from the anxiety of people looking at it.

For Ward.

She knew she had to see him soon. She wouldn't accept anything less. She'd play obedient soldier for a while, but she had to see him.

Until then, she had to try and take care of herself  _for_  him.

They made it to the street, which held some nice watering holes. Hunter was the one to choose the bar.

"It's a pub!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry! Didn't realize there was a difference," Skye told him, hands raised.

Hunter just gave her dead eyed look of disbelief at her ignorance, walking passed her and inside the pub. She smiled to herself as Simmons came up beside her.

"Honestly Skye, of course there's a difference," Simmons told her as she walked inside the… drinking place.

Skye still didn't see the difference.

But pub, bar, it didn't matter to Skye. It was fun. Like Bobbi had said, it was nice just to unwind. Stress-free.

Alcohol helped.

Skye was swaying to the music on the floor she deemed to be a dance floor. The place definitely wasn't a club, but she wanted to dance. And she'd convinced Simmons and Triplett to as well. So in the middle of the not too crowded pub, that's exactly what they did.

As Skye let herself move to the music, - incredibly badly and wildly, and though Trip matched her style, Simmons surprisingly had some skills - she began to look at her surroundings. It reminded her of places she'd liked to go when she was younger. There was an appeal of simplicity.

As her eyes roamed, she noticed something. A couple, man and woman, in the corner. The woman was staring at her.

Skye stared right back, appraising her.

She tried to forget about it. Tried not to let the blonde thirty something year old woman get on her nerves, but it began to run through her mind more and more. And more and more, Skye began to think the woman was watching her neck, a horrible scowl on her face.

Then it dawned on Skye.

What if this person was Hydra?

How could she have been so stupid! Any Hydra agent could recognize the logo. Any government official. Any civilian that kept an eye on the news knew exactly what it meant.

Whether they thought she was a victim, a part of the organization, or just a psychotic fan, it put her out in the open. A target. At least a topic of interest.

_What does that girl have to do with Hydra?_

"Guys," Skye whispered. "Check out the couple at your four o'clock."

Simmons and Triplett looked.

"Is something wrong with them?" asked Simmons.

"They're staring at… us."

Jemma gave her a pitying smile. Bit her lip. "Do you think you could just be being a tad paranoid?"

The woman nudged the man, pointed blatantly at Skye.

"Oh," Simmons sighed.

"Not so paranoid, huh?" asked Skye, alcohol making her bold. And rude.

"That is strange," admonished Trip, and with the acknowledgement from her friends that she wasn't making it up, Skye found herself walking over to the table. It was probably stupid. After all, could definitely be bad news if they were Hydra. Trip had a gun, but she didn’t.

Again, alcohol.

"There something you want to say to me?" Skye asked, arms crossed. The couple raised their brows in shock that Skye had brought it up, but their faces screamed guilty. Kids caught gossiping.

"No," said the lady, voice shrill. " _But_ people don’t usually dance in this place."

"There a rule against it?" Skye asked.

"Not that I know of…"

"Then mind your own damn business," Skye told her, turning around just as Triplett and Simmons were coming to her side.

She would have walked away then. She would have, and that would have been the end of it. But then Skye heard the woman muttering under her breath to her companion:

"Anyone who would allow  _that_ on them is obviously just a low-class person…"

"I'm sorry," Skye said harshly through a scoff of a laugh, turning to the woman again. "What was that?"

The woman shifted uncomfortably, and Skye knew this wasn't a Hydra agent. Mannerisms were all wrong. Too jumpy. She was folding beneath Skye's gaze.

"If you're really being  _that_  nosey, I was saying that someone who uses that method of tattooing must obviously have really low regards toward themselves."

"Tattoo…" Skye mumbled in confusion, but the woman continued, apparently on a roll as her voice became harsher.

"Is it really that important to have the picture on you as to burn yourself? I understand ink tattoos, but  _brands_? It's disgusting. And yours... I don't know why anyone would want to disfigure their body in that way, and to be honest, I'd rather not have trash who would in such an otherwise pleasant bar."

"Whoa there!" said Hunter, seeming to swoop in out of nowhere as he unhooked Bobbi from his arm. "No need to be so rude, missy."

" _She's_  the one parading around something so distasteful. So if someone's being rude, it's this girl for subjecting people to look at that thing by going out in public."

Skye was frozen. Her mouth gaped. She wanted to retort but she was too angry, too upset, too frustrated. This woman didn't even know the symbol was Hydra, and she still thought Skye was disgusting. She thought she did it to herself. Put this on  _herself._

Her mouth moved, somehow finding the lost words.

"I didn't do this to myself, you judgmental bitch," she spat. Skye saw Jemma wince at the cussing from her peripherals.

"Abusive relationship, then?" asked the woman, eying Skye up and down. Skye noticed her eyes linger on the scar on her hand as well as her neck. "I've heard of that happening. Either way, you must have tons of low self-esteem if you couldn't find the sense to leave before he did  _that_ to you."

Skye felt her eyes grow large.

"Oh my god, you horrid woman!" Simmons exclaimed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bobbi and Hunter asked, near synchronized.

It was then that Skye realized Triplett had been holding her back. She'd been attempting to pounce on this lady.

The woman was scared at first, eyes filled with trepidation as she took a step back, and Skye was glad for that. But when it became clear Trip had a firm hold and wasn’t going to let go, the lady put up a bored façade. Sighed.

"Physical violence? Really?" She took a sip of her drink, and patted the man beside her - who'd been inexplicably quiet through the whole ordeal - on the shoulder. "Whatever. Ready babe? This place has really turned to shit if they let people like her in.”

The man just nodded, grabbing his expensive looking suit jacket. Seriously, who wore that to a bar? Pub.

Simmons stepped forward, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, but you've been such a pleasant one for conversation, I wanted so bad to get you a drink before you left."

The scientist then proceeded to pour the remainder of her Long Island Iced tea on the woman's head, and Skye couldn't keep the smirk off her face if she tried.

The woman's hands trembled, as she whined in upset like a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"Fuck you!” she spat at Simmons, then widened her range of vision. “Fuck _all_ of you, creeps!” She looked for a moment to keep going on her tangent, but Skye had quite the entourage. The woman probably thought they were part of a gang or something and not to be messed with.

She’d be right about the second point.

The woman backed off, allowing her exasperated companion to guide her out of the bar. Skye gave the man a look of raised eyebrows that said,  _is crazy really worth it, dude?_

The feel-good moment of Simmons' triumph left as fast as it had come, and Skye found her mood to be incredibly doused. She walked away from the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. It didn't help that they'd all been staring at her expectantly, like a meltdown was imminent.

Skye made her way outside immediately, aware of at least one person shadowing her as she went.

When she was met with the crisp night air, it wasn't the symbol on her neck coaxing her to wish she had a scarf, for once.

"Skye!" Simmons called after her. "That woman was an utter imbecile. I hope you didn't take what she meant to heart."

How could she  _not_  take it to heart? She'd gone out  _once_ since her stint with torture, and that was the reaction she'd gotten. What if someone actually had recognized it as Hydra? What if the thing outed her as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent? What if they recognized her, saw her as theirs...

What if they tried to take her back?

That thought made Skye's stomach start summersaulting.

Even so, she needed Simmons to think nothing was wrong, she needed to keep it together. Because Skye realized something. The mark didn't just need to be covered up or masked to the point where it wasn't seen. She needed this thing  _off_  of her. Needed its constant presence gone.

And most importantly, she needed Ward.

But the only way to get back into that vault was to convince this team her judgment was as good as ever.

Still, she didn't respond fast enough so Simmons continued.

"That woman was of the wrong from the start. People have every right to do what they want with their bodies. I mean, that's not a particularly enchanting prospect, branding on purpose… but still, she was completely out of her place to say so."

"I know," Skye finally conceded. "And I feel fine about it. I should probably keep it more covered when I go out, though."

Simmons nodded. "Yeah, that may be for the best."

Skye had honestly expected to be met with resistance to her comment, and felt a small pang of frustration at how willingly Simmons wanted her to cover up for the rest of her life.

But no, this was good. Someone was agreeing with her. The thing couldn't be seen.

Skye needed it gone. For good.

Simmons was pacified though. The team was pacified, and by the time they made it back to the base, no one thought to check on her. Didn't notice how she snuck off on her own.

Didn't notice the butterfly knife she took from the weapons cabinet.

She crept to the bathroom.

As she raised the knife to lie gently on her neck in front of the mirror, Skye was immediately horrified with the sight. It was a terrible image, as she held the weapon to such a delicate area on her own body. It really did look like she was doing the unthinkable, even to herself.

She was shaking. The knife trembled in her hand as she planned to get rid of the wretched thing, even if would leave a much larger mark on her neck. It would be gone. And nothing, not even an ugly dark red or purple scar, could be worse than that insignia.

But she wasn't steady. She wasn't stable. Even in her state, she knew this was a bad idea to do herself.

And she realized, she needed to try now. It was time to go see  _him._

She'd been good, damn near perfect for two weeks. They barely watched her anymore. Heck, they didn't even notice her take the knife up to the bathroom.

So she went down to vault D, though she didn't bother with the cameras. She just had to see him, had to ask for his help. Skye needed Grant Ward.

But Grant Ward wasn't the one in that vault.

"You?" Skye gasped.

Payne spun around on the cot, not seeming to realize he had a visitor until she'd spoken. His lip curled up into a smile, his voice as breathy and unpleasant as the day he'd helped Hydra ruin her life. His delighted chuckle betraying any notion that he appeared to be a prisoner.

"Skye! How exciting it is to see you again, hmhm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure there is one chapter in this entire story without a cliffhanger.
> 
> Sorry if I hit the nail a little hard on the head with the woman at the bar. (Kind of like how the most recent episode did with Simmons. We get it, she's against gifteds now. No need to shove it down our throats... like I just did with this pub woman... ok I'll shut up.)
> 
> Next chapter has Ward, I promise! (And maybe some freaking hope and lightness! Near the end... but it's there!)


	6. Making Mountains Out of Molehills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye talks to her torturer, then goes to see Ward in a rather desperate state.

"You're not Ward," she said dumbly to the tormenter. Blinked. "I didn't even…"  _I didn't even know you were here._  She'd stopped herself from finishing the sentence. She shouldn't appear so ill-informed in front of him.

"Oh, I haven't been here all the time since we last saw each other," Payne informed her, reading her thoughts. "Politics and such brought me back to this S.H.I.E.L.D. base. But I'm more concerned with you! How have you been holding up?"

He smirked, gave that tiny laugh after his words that were laced with fake pity. Skye scowled.

"You're pathetic," she spat at him suddenly, not knowing what else to say. That was just the first thing that came to mind. She never thought she'd encounter her only remaining torturer again, and somehow had never thought of what she'd say to him. It was strange. She might have expected that would be something victims dwell on.

She'd dwelt on other things.

"I just do what I enjoy," he told her, stepping closer to the barrier placidly, hands behind his back. Skye stayed in place. "That's what they say, isn't it? Enjoy your work and it's not like work at all!"

"Why?" Skye asked, finding her curiosity sincere. "Why would you enjoy… that?"

He near giggled to himself, obviously excited to explain his work. Skye's skin crawled.

"How to explain… Well, it's as though every person works differently. Has a different tick, a different…. code, working for them on the inside."

"Let me guess. You like the inside to become the outside?"

"Hah! That is funny!" he exclaimed, and he sounded truly amused. "Eh, sometimes, but not exactly. Some people don't even need that. You sure didn't!"

Skye glanced at her neck, but brought her eyes quickly back to the man.

"Some people won't break without a lot of physical excursion, some people without the psychological aspects and such. It's all a matter of figuring… out… who... needs what."

He said this, having become quite pensive, playing with his fingers and pressing one against his thumb as he punctuated each word. His mind seemed to be somewhere else. Then his eyes snapped up to her, and he continued.

"I did guess you would break faster under physical duress, actually. Hmhm, so, I lost that round."

 _Lost that round._  Like hurting people was a game. Like scarring people for life and giving them mental disorders or PTSD was just a sick, twisted,  _game_. Just seeing how fast they can break, if he could choose the right method first.

Skye felt nausea mix with the fury inside of her.

"So, have you been feeling it?"

She scrutinized him. "Feeling what?"

He grinned. "Oh, little wittle girl, that  _itch_. That feeling you can't scratch, can't get rid of. That we're on you, watching you. Everyone and anyone is looking at you at any given moment but you don't know what to do it about it. And surely, the thing blaring off your very skin can't help with the paranoia."

Skye felt lost. Her head shook slightly…

"The drug I gave you. The one that I pushed inside you over and over again. It wasn't just…" he smirked, " _pain."_

"Kept me awake…" she mumbled bitterly, the memory stinging her: the thought that her only wish was to be gone from the world in that moment. But she wasn't able to even find escape in her own mind.

"That too." He chuckled. "Still, it opened something. Right… here."

He placed a pointer finger into his temple.

"What?"

"It opens the mind!" he explained gloriously, gesturing around himself. "All those little fears and thoughts that you try to lock up, the drug opens up possibilities. Has you dwell, has you stew, more than you could even think possible on a subject."

Skye stared, comprehending.

Did that mean she  _wasn't_  crazy?

She'd found herself slipping before, but it was just a drug. It wasn't her mind. She wasn't losing it. Maybe without the drug, she never would have asked Ward to give up the information in the first place!

"Now, don't go taking too much solace in that," he told her, as he proved once again he must be some sort of mind reader. "You still would have broken."

She crossed her arms, as though putting up a defense. "What makes you so sure?"

"Well, the drug is more of a… parting gift.  _If_  you manage to walk away alive. It's not necessary to gaining information, really. Maybe if you'd been there longer to allow it to sink in, but in your case, it was just for fun!"

Skye stood still. She was afraid if she moved, she'd attempt to ram the barrier to claw this man to death. Though her scowl deepened with every word.

" _And_  it really only works as well as your mind allows it to. How much the individual permits it inside."

"I thought you said it opens the mind?" Skye asked.

"Only if the door isn't completely  _locked,_ " he explained pointedly.

He laughed. His voice was excited, sing song. Disturbing. So unlike his old partner, a cool wit to that man who held stock in the information he'd been trying to gain. This one just wanted to see her suffer. Just a kid with a magnifying glass who got to watch the ants writhe.

"With the small amount it took to break you, you should consider yourself lucky we hadn't moved to more… degrading tactics faster. If you believe you're disgusting now, and don't bother denying it as I know you do," he took pause to look her with pity, proved to be false from the grin he just couldn't seem to keep off his face, "just think of what a  _mess_ you would be then."

He was right.

She'd thought about it, briefly, when Blackwell had torn apart her shirt before he obviously got distracted by her bullet scars. About what could be coming, and she honestly didn't know how to prepare. Especially after they'd just put her through multiple rounds of the burning pain serum, she couldn't get her mind to meditate. Not that she believed she could stay locked in her head while _that_  was happening. If they had gone in that direction...

She'd be even more pathetic than she already was now.

"I don't go down that particular road usually but… Blackwell might have. He was an interesting fellow. I myself still believe withholding ones clothes can be a particularly powerful tool." He chuckled, as though caught in a reminiscing something pleasant, not watching people's dignity flit away. "You would not  _believe_  what easy access you can gain to the mind when people are preoccupied with something as simple as modesty."

Skye realized she was snarling. "You're a coward. You're ten times worse than Blackwell, and he's the one that put  _this_  on me." She gestured roughly to her neck as she stepped up to the barrier, wishing she could spit in his face. "You were a terrified mess when that plane was going down. You talk about all these ways to break people down and how it's all a game to see what it takes… when all it takes for you is a little turbulence? Guess you can't handle a taste of your own medicine,  _Payne._ "

Skye's words came out harsh as she could muster, but the man looked at her placidly. No trace she offended him in the slightest.

"I thought I might die, and I don't want to die. There's too much fun to be had in life!" he exclaimed, lifting his arms like a child excited to play.

Skye's hands tightened into fists, and for the first time since she'd been down there, she remembered the knife in her hand. It was hard to think she ever forgot about it, the small weapon suddenly felt heavy with a weight of importance in her hand.

She lifted it.

"Want to feel  _fear,_ Payne?" she growled out slowly. "Want to experience  _terror_?" She flipped the knife in her hand. "I guess I could try to draw it out best I can, but no promises. I'm not as _talented_  as you."

"Aw, are we playing pretend? How exciting!"

"I'm not bluffing," she spat. And… she was bluffing about not bluffing. Still, she was sure her voice had sounded sincere with the pure rage directed behind it. Because had she had any absence of a soul like the creature before herself, if she didn't care about losing herself in the process, she would like to jab the knife into the defenseless man's flesh.

But she wasn't that low. Not yet. And she was not intending on getting there anytime soon.

It irked at her when he called her out for it, though.

"Ah, you're not going to kill me, little one," he told her, waving dismissively. "You're not even going to open that barrier, hmhm."

"Why's that?" she said through grit teeth.

"For the exact reason that itty bitty symbol on your neck is slowly tearing you apart. Blackwell really had you pegged... You're loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D., and you don't even know what I'm here for. Of course, I'm probably important." He shrugged. "I could be the best lead your fragile organization has on a main case. I'm here for a reason and you won't do anything to me so long as you feel the need to prove your loyalty. Prove that thing seared into your skin doesn't define you. That it doesn't own you. And maybe you'll be able to convince them..." He smiled. The toothy smile worthy to rival the snarl of a wolf. "But you'll never be able to convince yourself, Skye."

She shivered.

The way he said her name… he used it so sparingly it ensured the word to have impact. He kept it hidden like a secret for the most meaningful moments. She wasn't even sure this man had known her name until she’d walked down those stairs, as he never stated it during the interrogation. Blackwell was the only one to do that, waiting for his speech of property to take place before piercing her name into the proclamation of taking her for Hydra.

And Payne was using the same tactic.

He might have been a kid ripping off butterfly wings, but he was smart. Observant.

He seemed overjoyed at her shocked expression. That he'd managed to catch her off guard, managed to hit her true feelings dead on.

"I read people for a living, darling," he told her. "And you're one of the most open books I've ever met."

It was true. Goddammit, everything he told her was true.

"How long will it last?" she asked fiercely.

Mild confusion swept over his face. "How long…?"

"How long is the damn paranoia going to last! Am I just going to be a freaked out, anxious and angry mess forever? I want to be normal again."

She let more vulnerability into her voice than she'd intended. But then, maybe that was just the drug and what it did to her making her lose herself. Not keeping her feelings in check. Maybe she couldn't help it.

A smile twitched at the side of his mouth as he stared at her. Near in awe.

Then he began to laugh. He was laughing at her.

It wasn't the strange breathy giggle he put at the end of his sentences sometimes. It was a full-blown guffaw. And she'd heard it before: he'd thought her screams during the injections were particularly amusing.

"Shut up!" she screeched over his triumphant laughter. "Just tell me."

"That influence should be gone," he told her bluntly with the utmost amusement. Skye tried to process. "Granted, usually people find something to hold on to and it guides them through the process of finding themselves again, but I've never seen it last more than a few weeks. It's been over three months, hasn't it? You are almost fascinatingly pathetic if you're allowing it to linger this long!"

Skye nearly drew blood from biting her lip at how angry the comment made her. How badly she wished it were him who was bleeding. But he was right. She couldn't attack the man, not with her limited information.

She tried to keep a passive face - most likely an utter failure - as she stormed upstairs. His laughter echoed off the walls until the door was shut, and then the noise still reverbed in the confines of her mind.

Skye didn't waste a moment. She went straight to the cameras of the vaults. She saw Ward. Though the sight of him stirred up relief in her stomach that he was still in the base, it did nothing to her current physical stance. She was barely holding it together through her grit teeth and squeezed fists, her rage only increasing when she saw where they'd moved Ward: Vault E.

A smaller vault. They'd moved him to a smaller vault.

How could they do that? How could they do that  _to him_? She pleaded for them to give him a chance and all it had earned him was punishment. She cursed herself for not looking into his state, even if she was trying to be good enough to lose her place on Coulson's radar. But she would have done something. She wouldn't have allowed his condition to  _worsen_!

No wonder they didn't tell her.

She marched to Vault E, the knife firm in her hand as she strutted through the base. If anyone saw her, they could come to some very bad conclusions.

_She's crazy. Lost it._

But to her, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Not that woman at the bar, not her team, not what a bitch she'd been to them these past weeks. Not even hating herself and what she'd become. All that mattered was Ward, her rock and island and all she felt herself gravitating towards these past weeks, because now she knew why.

And she knew she didn't deserve it, but god help her she was going to at least try to ask it of him.

She opened the tiny vault's barrier to the point where it was see through, and the point where Ward could hear. Despite her toting of the knife, he didn't look scared. Or concerned. He looked relieved to see her.

Which then turned to concern, but Skye thought the emotion was present for  _her_  well-being.

"Skye, does Coulson know-?"

"No," she stated firmly, stepping right up to him. To what the barrier would allow. "But the cameras are on. I don't care if he knows..."

With an element of abruptness, she turned off the barrier. Completely off. Ward could walk away now, if he so pleased. Oh she had a knife, but Ward was more than capable of getting passed her if he wanted to, even with her training.

"Skye!" he exclaimed, seeming concerned at his own freedom. "No, what are you doing?"

"Please Ward," she begged him as she began to close the vacant space between their bodies. He only increased it, hid back into his cell. He looked physically repulsed. Her throat felt thick and she knew the sound would come out the same. "Please get it off of me Ward. Please. I can't have it on me and I can't do it… Please,  _please_ just take it off!"

She knelt down crying now, holding up the knife's handle to him like a ritualistic offering. Her eyes focused on her shoes as she let her hair fall over her face. She could try to hide the tears, evident as they were in her voice.

"What the hell?" he barked, incredulous. By the time she looked up, he'd retreated to the very back of the cell. "No. No I am not  _slicing your neck_!"

"Well I can't!" Skye shouted. "My hands shook… and… and I'm too weak to do it myself."

 _No Skye, you're too smart,_ thought Ward.  _You know better._

"You can't be serious!" Ward exclaimed.

"As the plague," she growled. "I need it gone. It's ruining me Ward! It's ripping me apart!"

Ward felt his heart break. Shatter, more accurately. How could he have done this to her? He thought Skye would have hated herself for letting the team down… but it wouldn't have been her. It would have been him letting down S.H.I.E.L.D. And he was a traitor, he'd done it before. He should have saved Skye. He never should have let that thing press into her.

But couldn't she understand? It wasn't ruining her. It was nothing but a reminder of the repulse she'd created and was currently stirring up inside her own mind, and only  _she_  could be the one to put a stop to that.

Though Ward couldn't find the words to say this, for in a few moments the girl was trudging to the corner of the cell he'd ducked into, opening his palm and forcing the knife into it with rough fingers.

He let it clatter to the floor.

"Ward!"

"No, Skye." She wouldn't look into his eyes, so he ducked down, searching for them. "It's your neck. You have to realize how easily you could hit an artery, or even just the thought of doing such self-harm-"

"It would be self- _help,_ " she snarled in argument. "I know you know how to avoid an artery."

Ward was shaking his head. Slowly. The movement weighed down by sadness and mourning, as he missed her. The old Skye. The Skye who knew better than this, who was  _better_  than this. He knew, really, it was the same Skye and her judgment was just misled, but he hated seeing it.

"It's too big," he told her simply. "There's no way to safely do it. Especially with this kind of knife."

He near regretted his words, as he feared she may have thought that an invitation to go find some sort of medical tool. A scalpel.

But she didn't. She just looked defeated. Put out. Tired too, near exhausted.

She sort of stumbled away backwards, until her legs hit the cot, prompting her to drop down onto it. Skye then brought her hands to her face, fingers covering the most silent tears he'd ever heard someone attempt.

"I hate it, Ward," her muffled voice came through at barely a whisper.

It was barely a notion, though it was enough to be noted, that Ward could walk out of there now, as Skye's eyes were covered. The tablet feet away from her. He could walk away and try to make his way from this base. He would have to leave Skye locked in that cell. Yes, it was a notion.

It wasn't a remote possibility though.

"I know," he whispered as he sat down next to her. She didn't even flinch, his body just an inch away. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" her voice cracked out after only a brief pause. "Why are you sorry? For what I've become?"

Honestly, the answer to that could be yes, as he hated seeing her in this state. But Ward knew this wasn't something she'd become. It was just something she needed to work through. This moment, how she felt, the Hydra symbol did not define her; she just believed they did.

"No, not for what you've become. You're still Skye," he told her, yearning to wipe a large tear hinging on her cheek. He held back. "I'm sorry I let you down. And… I'm sorry I can't help you more now."

Her water stained face looked up at him, and he felt his hands go somewhere they shouldn't.

He touched her.

He allowed his hands on her face, to hold her tenderly, because he feared if he hadn't she may have fallen apart at any moment. His thumbs brushed over her fragile cheeks, wiping away the tears in a near unnoticeable motion as he made circles on her skin, just so she knew she wasn't in this alone.

Her face was a mix of shock and gratefulness at the gesture, which was as understandable a reaction as any. And relieving. There wasn't a trace of disgust in her features. For his hands' placement, or even just at herself.

Ward was  _touching_  her. She'd vowed never to allow that to happen again. She remembered the vow, remembered with how much sincerity she'd told herself she'd stick to it. Still, allowing him there didn't feel like a betrayal to herself in any way. But that wasn't the most important thing.

He was touching her brand.

It felt so intimate, so sweet and so welcomed. The way he… it was like he didn't even notice it at all. She felt his palm over the curves and edges of the scar, warm to the touch. Not like when Blackwell had strangled her over top of the thing, boiling her tender skin with a scalding hand, but comfortable. Safe. Like she was home. At peace, for the first time in such a long time.

She let out a slow breath, letting the calm take her in as a welcome embrace. The tears had stopped. Her mind felt… clear. As though his hand covering it up made it as though it'd disappeared.

But no. It was more, as though his hand pressing into the forbidden place had made it so the thing was… accepted.

Euphoria filled her mind to the brim. She'd forgotten what it was like to feel this way. To not feel sad, scared and pitied. She gurgled a watery laugh, and for a moment thought she may start crying again.

Ward smiled. It was so full of actual sincere relief and happiness she grinned ear-to-ear back at him. Then, she let her forehead fall against his, reveling in shared reprieve.

And he was so warm and wonderful and good, that she forgot everything. She forgot her life, up to this moment. She forgot who the man in front of her was, what he'd done, what she'd been through, what she looked like. If she had a scar. What color her hair was, what her childhood had been like. She was just a girl, and he was just a generous man reminding her that life was something to be lived and not live through or put up with. With nothing so much as his touch.

It was because of all this that she didn't feel any pangs of guilt when she ignited something that was supposedly so forbidden.

She pressed her lips fully onto his, the feeling as pleasant as whatever he'd caused her to forget. As she'd forgotten, she couldn't recall what it was.

Skye didn't know anything then, in that moment, anymore. Because it was just them. And the universe wasn't showing them some sign or scar or mark to remind the two what they should or shouldn't be doing. It was just Skye and Grant, unknowing of more than the first names. Unknowing of what doors they'd just opened, or the impending mess they'd gotten themselves into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you noticed the POVs getting muddled, it's because once the barrier between them I made that "physically as well as metaphorically," and now it will switch between their POVs randomly.
> 
> It's funny cause Skye doesn't even have a last name. Hah... sorry I suck at fluff in the sense that I don't know where to try the line between "aww" and "dorktastic". (See? That word was probably where the line should have been.) Actually I'm 99% sure I crossed the line up there too, but ah well.


	7. A Tree Is Known By Its Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye talks to Ward and the team.

This looked bad. God, it looked so bad.

Ward was grateful for the calm girl lying next to where he sat, that she finally seemed to be in some state of reprieve and her mind almost blissfully empty.

But he also wished she would have taken the time to turn off the cameras. Because Skye lying next to the Hydra prisoner on a cot in his cell could only be taken in a bad light.

Skye'd collected herself well enough after their kiss to take a moment and close the barrier. She needed a defense to Coulson that she wasn't going so far off his orders as to put the team in jeopardy. Thing was, she'd kept herself inside.

Ward knew the man wouldn't like that almost as much.

Not only was it proving that she trusted Grant, it proved that she accepted him. And with how the team saw Ward and how Skye had been acting these past months, it would only be an assurance to them of her failing state of mind.

But the smile and lack of concern on her face made Ward's own worries disappear, and he merely sat on the cot, watching her with intrigue.

After closing the barrier, she'd come back over to the cot, throwing herself backwards so she landed comfortably on the pillow. Well, Ward happened to know that particular pillow was about as comfortable as cardboard, but the way she snuggled cozily into it and closed her eyes with a pleasant smile on her face made him believe she felt differently, or was at least too elated to notice.

He sat near her shoes, at the foot of the bed.

_It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss._

He had to repeat the mantra in his mind, because he couldn't allow himself to think it was anything more. It wasn't reinstating him to have a role in Skye's life. It wasn't an authentic commitment to trust. And, despite the way she was sprawled on the bed, they'd done nothing passed locking lips.

This fact was particularly important if someone decided to check the feed from the vault right about now.

He didn't really know what she was even doing. Lying there, her eyes shut with a peaceful grin on her face. It pleased him to know the event that preceded and most likely caused the reaction was him, but at the same time, he was infinitely curious as to how one gesture could cause such a response in a person with quite advanced stages of depression.

"Skye-"

"Shh, you'll ruin the moment," she mumbled sweetly, the smile unwavering on her face as she shifted her shoulders into the sheets.

"I know. That's why I waited for a  _few_ moments to pass before I said anything. You have been lying there a while," he told her.

Well, that was true, she had to admit.

But could he really blame her? It was the first sense of reprieve she'd felt in so long. Too damn long and she wanted to savor it. Though nothing lasted forever of course, but with any luck, she still wouldn't feel awful when she picked herself up from the bed.

So she tried it.

She sighed from her now upright position on the cot. "You're right," she said impishly, lifting her eyebrows. "As usual. I should listen to you more often. Maybe do that other thing more often, too…" she hinted, feeling forward and possibly foolish in her blissful state.

Skye was aware Grant Ward didn't have many outward reactions. He held them guarded, trained as he was. She was too now, but the girl would let herself show when she wanted. Not him. You had to search for expressions he would attempt to hide, and usually he'd do a pretty good job.

But she saw the glint of excitement in his eyes at that particular prospect, only making her tingle with happiness more.

"This is a bad idea," he said ruefully, shaking his head.

"What is?"

"Us being..." he started, and she raised an eyebrow.  _Us_  was a strong word at this point in time. He amended. "You being in here with me. The cameras being on." He paused. "You so much as talking to me."

"Probably," Skye agreed. "My good judgment is taking a vacation for the time being. Give me a moment to feel good before I get all responsible again."

Ward appraised her warmly. "It is nice to seeing you like this," he admitted.

She lifted the right side of her mouth to quirk a half-smile. "It's nice to feel like this. All thanks to you."

Ward looked away. Was he being… coy? That was different for him. "I'm glad my kissing abilities helped you," he said.

Skye's eyes drifted to the side. "It wasn't that, really… that was sort of my thank you."

He squinted his eyes, brow furrowed with puzzlement. She sighed and continued.

"You touched this," she admitted, feeling as if she were confessing as she pointed to the Hydra symbol. "You put your hand right over it like it wasn't even there. Like it didn't matter."

"That's because it doesn't," he assured her, hoping she could finally take those words in and believe them as a fact.

Ward hadn't even noticed the scar. He noticed he was touching her, because the thought was both so exciting and forbidden that it had taken up most of the capacity of his mind. Even if there hadn't been so much going on in his head, her scar didn't matter.

He'd been a specialist and no matter the situation, he was trained to pick out the important details. No matter how filled his mind was, he was supposed to notice anything and everything that meant something. The fact that he didn't notice  _that_ was substantial. It meant that the mark didn't mean anything. Not to him.

"Maybe," she conceded halfway. "It shouldn't… it doesn't make me a bad person. It doesn't make me their property," she declared, feeling a small amount of nausea stir in her stomach at the statements; like her mind was still fighting her that it wasn't the truth. But she knew it was. She just needed to listen to logic, not what her self-abusing psyche had been trying to drill into her thoughts. "But it does point me out in certain situations."

Ward nodded. "It draws attention."

"Right," she agreed. "There's obviously a story behind it and people will be curious. Whether they're government officials or Hydra on the prowl for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, if the wrong people see it I'm in trouble. I could get  _the team_  in trouble."

What she'd just said was a legitimate complaint, an actual woe.

That relieved Ward immensely.

He wasn't thrilled that Skye was saying something he couldn't deny or couldn't assure her it wouldn't affect her that way, but she was seeing clearly. She was seeing her situation for what it was and not the deluded catastrophe she'd made it out to be.

"All that means is you'll have to be more careful from now on," he said.

"I know. It just sucks."

"Yeah. I know the feeling," he agreed, giving her a small smile. She appeared taken aback, almost. She lost her new glow as her gaze shifted to her feet.

"I'm sorry they moved you here," she said, and he hated the hurt that returned to her voice. "I had no idea until I tried to come see you today..."

"That's not your fault Skye," he told her, and her eyes snapped up to his.

"I should have checked up on you. Instead it just caused me to run into Payne, anyway."

“You were hurt?”

She giggled at his mistake. “No. The guy who… Blackwell’s partner.”

Ward stiffened.

That man was  _here_?

"Which I guess was a good thing," she continued, seeming unaware of the change in Ward. It hadn't been outwardly noticeable, he supposed.

"Was it?" he growled, angry that she'd had to face that vermin again.

Skye noticed the rage in his voice and felt her tone morph with concern, wanting to reassure him. "Hey, it's ok. I can handle-"

Skye was about to finish that sentence with "myself". Something she'd been so desperately trying to prove to everyone since the moment she'd even become a field agent. But her behaviors as of late had clearly told them otherwise, and she wouldn't blame anyone for being wary of her. She never gave them an inch, even when they were merely trying to help her. She'd even sacrificed fieldwork, something she'd worked so hard to be able to accomplish, just to avoid therapy.

Skye had never been averse to therapists in the past. It was a good thing, maybe awkward, but good to let your feelings have release when something traumatic happened to you.

And while she still excelled as well as was possible during missions, Skye would have a hard time arguing that she could handle herself in any situation when it was clear as day that she'd been losing a battle waging on in her own mind.

But she could now.

Still, she opted to start a new sentence. "I talked to him and he gave me information… about the drug they gave me. I have no idea what it does  _really_ , but the way he explained it made it seem like it pretty much would boost paranoia and anger levels up to the max. Plus… it lasts a while."

When she glanced up at Ward, he looked as though he was bracing himself for something. His fists were balled up, and he was staring hard enough at the wall across the room she thought it might spontaneously combust.

"Ward?" she prompted.

"It wasn't enough that they physically hurt you, they just had to attack your mind too," he said through gritted teeth. He scoffed, before adding spitefully, "I don't know why I'm surprised. It's just the sort of thing Hydra would do. As long as someone gets the job done, there really aren't parameters to how far you can go. Sick bastards-"

"Hey," she cut him off before he could get any more riled up, placing a hand on his shoulder. It actually surprised her that he'd ranted that far already. "It's ok."

He glared incredulously at that.

No. It was not ok. What they did to Skye was not ok. Him working for them was not  _ok._

He'd known that, somewhere in a hidden crevice of his mind even as Garrett had kept him working for the organization. So while Ward would have followed that man anywhere because of the debt he'd felt needed to be paid to his SO and personal savior, he'd convinced himself that Hydra was not the institution it had once been. That Skye had been wrong when she'd told him he was a Nazi for being with them.

But she'd been right.

"You've been off the rails, beating yourself up for  _months_ , and you just think it's ok?"

"It's ok because it made me talk to you. The drug allowed me to give you a chance, and maybe you didn't deserve it. But now I can see that you needed it."

He looked lost. "What are you talking about?"

"Apparently the way to lose the influence of the drug is to connect with an anchor. And I think… I guess it was you," she explained.

He just blinked.

"Because I never felt angry with you… not like with the others. Not unprovoked. You're the only person I wanted to talk to and I hated it when Coulson made us separate. I don't know how it works, but it let me talk to you. Not interrogate you. The drug let me give you a chance and I found someone underneath that I feel… has worth."

Ward wasn't really sure how to respond.

Skye was thinking of it as a good thing. But if what she was saying was true... what if the drug just made her  _think_ she liked Ward? What if she really wouldn't have seen any worth in him at all?

She didn't seem to realize this. All she saw it as was an opportunity.

"How about you come upstairs?" asked Skye, near out of the blue.

"What?" Ward shook his head. "You're delusional if you think Coulson would be ok with that."

Skye scowled, and Grant couldn't blame her. The wording of his statement was innocent, but rude to her predicament. Still, her response was flippant enough.

"I don't think he'd be  _ok_ with it, of course. Not right away. But we could show them that you're ok. That you can be an asset…"

"What makes you so sure, Skye? We've been in controlled circumstances. What makes you think I'm not playing you?"

She gestured in front of herself. "That right there, for one. If you were playing me, I really doubt you'd bring it to my attention. And controlled circumstances? Ward, I left the barrier wide open. You didn't so much as make a move for it."

Somewhat valid points, but still arguable. And Ward wasn't so sure. This could be what they'd done to her. If there was some drug inside of her affecting her judgment, the last thing he wanted to do was compromise it more so Coulson and the team thought less of her. And letting a Hydra traitor come hang out in the lounge? That would definitely qualify.

He didn't want to tell her this though. Not when she was feeling so free. He didn't want to make her think she was still under their influence or that she was still owned by Hydra or even the trivial mark on her neck.

"Skye, they won't accept me and you know that. After what I did to FitzSimmons… to all of you. It would be foolish and reckless," he told her, specifically trying to use words that would trigger a response of avoidance with her recent training. Though with Skye… maybe it would have the opposite effect on her stubborn personality.

Her frown deepening, she picked herself up off the bed fiercely.

"But it's not fair!" she exclaimed. "Maybe I'll just show someone this tape. They  _have_  to be able to see!"

"Don't show anyone the video Skye," he urged. "It would just make it seem like you're trying to prove a point."

"Well, I am," she said shortly. Arms crossed as she tapped her foot, not hiding her irritation in the slightest.

Ward contemplated that a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was offering to free him. Literally asking him to walk openly about the base. This wasn't like when Skye had left the barrier open during her breakdown, as that wasn't actual leave to go. Plus, for all intents and purposes that he could see, she was lucid now.

But his gut still told him it would be wrong.

How far he had come from a few months ago, before this whole ordeal happened and before they had even tried to give him to his brother, where everyday he would pull on his wrist. Stretch it out little by little so that when opportunity struck, he would be able to become free of the handcuffs.

Skye changed everything.

She changed it when Coulson made Ward her charge at the time they moved him. Then when she'd been hurt and damaged, it changed even more.

So at this point in time, helping her psyche to get better, helping everyone  _believe_  she was better, was more important than anything to Ward.

But Skye's hardened eyes screamed determination, and he knew she would not be satisfied with just biding her time. Typical Skye. Just like when she'd been shot, after taking the first steps into recovery she had felt the need to be proactive. And Ward needed her to feel fulfilled.

Besides, he wouldn't mind seeing the smile that he had just a few minutes ago again.

So he'd give her something to do while she composed her thoughts. And maybe, if by some miracle she managed it… it would help him too.

"Ok, fine. But they need to come to their own conclusions."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You suggesting something?"

"Best thing you can get them to do is come talk to me." He shrugged, and she seemed to consider.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Simmons  _did_  say she'd kill you if she ever saw you again…"

"Probably not a great idea to just go hang out upstairs then. And I wasn't exactly pleased with how my conversation with Fitz went."

"Ok…" she muttered, thinking it over. "Right, ok I'll try."

* * *

"All I'm saying is you should try to talk to him," Skye panted out.

"And all I'm saying is why in the hell would I do that?" asked Trip. "You didn't talk to him for six months, and even then only when Coulson asked you to so we could get some intel. But you want me to go have a conversation for fun with the guy? Sounds like some bad mojo to me."

"But that's why you _should_ talk to him. I'm not asking for you guys to go on a picnic or anything-"

"Whoa whoa, did  _you_  go on a picnic with him?"

"What? No! I'm saying you shouldn' _t_  do that. Did you think I was actually suggesting…?"

"It just seemed random."

"Ok… listen! So we never gave him like a real chance to explain himself-"

"Coulson went down there for three and half weeks, Skye. He just refused to talk to anyone but you."

That much was true. But like everything else Ward had done, it seemed to have a good reason behind it now. Ward had seen it as the only way to talk to her. So, putting aside what could have put him on Coulson's good graces, he withheld his information until he could talk to Skye and put her on the right track to her father.

Shame  _that_  guy turned out to be a murdering psycho, but Ward had honestly been trying to help her. Still… Skye was beginning to see that anyone could have their reasons, especially in a world of aliens and brainwashing. Maybe she would be able to meet her father one day and discuss things with him. Either way, it was in Skye's best interests as well as Ward’s that he'd done it.

They'd talked a lot in their many chats before Coulson had banned her from him. She'd gotten to listen to all his excuses and reasoning, and while he might have been trained in manipulation, she’d been aware of that, and the reasons still seemed… legitimate.

A voice in the back of Skye's mind said it was that drug talking. That she'd clung to Ward because of the drug working its way into her brain to sear little traps for her psyche to fall into, while somehow making it so Ward could be the only savior to help her through it.

But she’d thought it through  _logically_. It wasn't like before, when she'd rely on fear and paranoia and hate to rule her actions. She could see how Garrett had manipulated Ward into helping him, how he'd made Ward believe he owed the man something. And after being a trained killer by S.H.I.E.L.D., a government organization that'd taught him murder was perfectly acceptable under the correct circumstances, why wouldn't he fall into the snare of a madman after he'd set down such appealing and entrapping lies?

"I know he did that," said Skye. "But maybe if you spoke to him-"

"Alright, listen girl. I'll talk to you about this. No way in  _hell_ am I agreeing to go talk to him yet, but this just ain't the best time to have a conversation."

"Why not?" she asked.

As if answering her question, Hunter came up out of nowhere, firing shot after shot at them. They ducked back into their corner.

"Ah, damn it," Trip moaned, watching the stamina numbers on his holographic vest count down at a rapid pace. The training equipment Mack and Fitz designed  _was_ pretty sweet, but it was not fun to see that happen. "That is one hundred percent on you."

"On me?" Skye asked incredulously, a smile lighting up her face. "Field agents aren't supposed to let distractions deter them."

Skye heard another shot as the helmet she was wearing vibrated, and her vest quickly ran down from one hundred to zero in a matter of seconds.

"What's your excuse, then?" May asked, coming around the corner.

Skye felt like a kid caught shooting spitballs in school, and despite how light and smiley she'd been feeling a moment ago, she let her months of training kick in all at once. She stood up straighter.

"No excuse," she admitted. "I'd be dead."

"Damn straight," said Triplett. "And I'd have to haul your dead ass back with a bad arm you caused."

"Hey, I owned up to it being my fault. Don't go blaming your hit on me!"

Two shots out of the blue later, Hunter came sauntering out from behind the wall as he took off his helmet. Skye watched Trip's counter run to zero as well. He looked at Hunter accusingly, to which the Brit shrugged.

"Sorry, just wanted to make sure we actually won. Seemed like you guys were calling a cease fire."

"Skye's just distracted is all," May said pointedly, and her calm tone of voice made sure Skye braced herself. "An extra fifty burpees should help get you back on track."

Skye nodded solemnly and voiced her understanding, just before May walked away.

"She knows I hate those…" the hacker mumbled, and she noticed the boys looking at her expectantly. Maybe even… fearfully? She shrugged. "But I guess when you slack off that's what happens."

"What were you two chatterbrains going on about anyhow?" asked Hunter. Triplett raised an eyebrow at Skye, obviously inviting her to share the information, or not.

"Ward," Skye said simply. "I'm kind of on a mission to get everyone to talk to him."

"Everyone? Everyone in the base?"

"Yep."

"Why would I _talk_ to him?" asked Hunter, causing Skye to take a beat.

"Ok, maybe just the people he knows…"

Triplett sighed. "Skye, the man is a trained manipulator, and I swear to sweet baby Jesus Hunter if your mouth is open to bring up Bobbi I may have to deck you," Triplett finished, his sentence taking a turn when Hunter's face lit up at "trained manipulator."

The mercenary closed his gaping mouth.

"You two are a thing now, right?" asked Skye. "You probably shouldn't bring up how she's a she-devil manipulator every chance you get still."

"I wouldn't!" he protested. "Anyway, look who's talking. You're trying to get people to go have a chat with the Hydra traitor in our basement, who also happens to be a manipulator!"

She shrugged, coupled with a nod. "Touché."

They stared at her.

"You seem… different," said Hunter, before hurriedly adding, "In a good way!"

"I feel different," she admitted happily. "Finding Payne in our vault was kind of an eye opener."

Triplett's eyes went wide for just a moment, letting Skye in on the fact that he was a member of the group of people keeping  _that_ secret from her. "Aw, hell..."

"Look, it's fine. I've been weird lately, and it makes sense you didn't tell me. To be honest, I'm not jumping at the chance to learn any more about the situation just yet anyhow."

"Wait, who are we talking about now?" asked Hunter.

Skye gave a somewhat smug smile, seeming to annoy Hunter. "And apparently I'm not the only one out of the loop anyways." She sighed. "But this kind of awesome way I'm feeling? It's exactly why I think you guys should hear Ward out."

"I understand where you're coming from Skye. Seriously, I get it," Triplett said. "You feel like he helped you and now you want to help him back. But even if you could convince one member of the team to go down there, why should they believe a word he says after what he's done? And without knowing if what he said is true… what's the point in the first place?"

Both very good questions. Good questions to which Skye did not have answers.

Triplett continued. "All I'm saying is it's gonna be a tough sell."

Skye just sighed.

It sucked, but she wasn't going to flip out or get angry like everyone seemed to be expecting her to. She didn't even know what FitzSimmons or Coulson and May would say yet.

Unfortunately it wouldn't be much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter’s kind of flat, but maybe it’s a nice break from super sad or angst. I'm pretty happy with the next one though!


	8. A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward and Skye continue taking steps forward. Someone comes to visit Ward in his cell.

_"That's the one. The hacker."_

_"Bring her."_

_The man in loud leather boots and camo didn't even lower his weapon as he came forth. The gun was in Skye's face._

_"Get up."_

_She stared. The order was harsh and cold, ringing through her to bring forth something like fear. But no, she couldn't be afraid. Her SO, the Director; they were both sitting next to her. All sitting against the plane wall bound and waiting like lambs for the slaughter._

_She didn't move._

_When he wrapped a hand through her hair it happened: May struck out like a cobra, kicking rapidly at the soldier holding a gun closest to her. She'd used the momentum to get herself up off the ground, and once the gun was gone she had easy access to get a roundhouse kick to his face._

_Skye didn't see anything else. That much had happened so fast, but the fresh field agent shouldn't have watched one second of May's fight. But she had watched, so Skye's attack reflex was just a moment too late. Still, she tried._

_She made to headbutt the guard who held her hair. He jerked her backwards brutally so she missed her mark, but it was distracting enough that he didn't see the sweep to his legs coming. They both tumbled to the floor._

_Boy, he was persistent because she could still feel his hot, grubby hand laced through her hair as they fell. Even when she kneed him in the groin he held her. In fact, that attack seemed to be her downfall as it made the man angry. He picked up her head with vehemence just before he cannoned it into the floor at a startling rate, her face connecting with the ground so heavily that it dazed her mind and stilled her thoughts. She thought she heard something crack._

_As the man forced her to her feet, frustration ran through her with the thought that she'd been taken down so quickly. Her hands were bound behind her, but that shouldn't be a problem. That wouldn't be a problem for Melinda May._

_Skye paled when she saw her SO._

_It_ was _a problem for Melinda May, because though there were two knocked out soldiers next to her, she was unmoving on the ground. And as Skye began to taste the first bits of tangy iron that lined the back of her throat from her bloody nose, she saw Coulson had moved as well. He was sitting beaten on the ground now, a battered Hydra agent in front of him that looked riled and angry, as Coulson just looked pained._

_They'd tried. They'd both tried for her._

_Christian's men tried nothing, though. Of course._

_Two guns in her face. The man's hand still in her hair. That was beginning to grate her nerves._

_"Ward doesn't really feel like talking," said the only man that held no gun, and looked like he belonged at some stingy country club, not hijacking a plane. Still, his demeanor held importance. Or at least the air that he thought he was important._

_Skye's face was a solid mask as he walked over to the girl, hands tied up with strings and being held as though a puppet on them. He got too far into her personal space, smiled. She saw teeth that were white pearls, but Skye knew just by looking at him that if he were a wolf they'd be stained red from this man's bloodshed._

_"But it appears that he enjoys talking to you," the man informed her darkly. "I wonder if he'll talk in exchange for your safety too."_

_Skye's breathing held steady. She hoped if she could look at her wrist's heart monitor it would be somewhere around seventy, but if she were honest, she figured it would be at least a little higher. What troubled her wasn't just this information that she was about to be hurt. No, it was that Grant Ward was doing this to her._

_The traitor, Hydra, murderer, Nazi, bastard._

_"You're evil," she informed him simply, as Ward was the one in front of her. It wasn't that other man, Blackwell. No, it was Grant Ward now._

_"Skye, I'm so sorry," he pleaded. Look at his face. Trying to be apologetic. Sincere._

_What bullshit._

_"You're a killer," she said, her wrists gaining a heartbeat from how firmly they were tied. The harsh grip served to remind her he was the enemy. "You'll never be good."_

_"I'm trying," he insisted. "I'm trying to learn."_

_"Is this how you learn?"_

_Her hands were free, and she pointed to the knife now prominent in her leg. It stung like a bitch. She hoped it stung him too._

_"Or maybe these," she said, holding up the burn on her hand, showing off the one on her stomach. He opened his mouth to say something. Defend himself ever so weakly again._

_She punched him._

_"You're a traitor," she said, landing another blow even as he reached for his jaw. "Murderer and a Nazi." Two more._

_When his face lifted it showed off reddened teeth, bloodied through a sadistic smile. He hid it quickly._

_He wasn't good. He'd never be good. He could try all he liked but Grant could never be good._

_She bore her neck to him._

_"This should be on you," she insisted. "You're the Hydra piece of shit. This. Should be. On you!"_

_"You're right," he agreed._

_She held the poker in her hand. The badge on the tip glowing red and yellow and harsh._

_"Then let's remedy that," she said coldly, and pressed the thing into his neck without any other pretense. He let himself go and screamed. "This is how I'll teach you to be good, Ward."_

_She felt the rage build to a boiling point under her searing skin for this man, but nothing could be better than watching this bastard suffer. He deserved it. He deserved it._

_Traitor, Hydra, murderer, Nazi, basta-_

Ward's eyes opened.

He didn't gasp, didn't spring from bed. Maybe his old reflexes were coming back to him. Trained specialist reflexes.

_You can't change. You'll never be good._

The fresh dream rang through his head like echoes bouncing off walls, spouting hidden feelings he wondered were truths. He steadied himself and got up with a shaky breath, ran his hand through his hair and slightly through his beard.

What was Skye thinking? Could she really forgive him for everything he'd done?

He felt doubtful, and yet she was up there rallying for people to come to his aid. To try and see if they would give him the chance she felt he deserved to have.

Time would tell and he could only wait for it, as was the way with that particular method. He'd just have to let Skye be and agree with her, try to help her. More than anything, he just wanted to help her. Let her know she was safe.

Maybe he could learn to be good along the way.

* * *

 

"It's just so annoying. They can't do me one tiny favor and come talk to you?"

Skye was going off on a small tangent, but it was nothing compared to her outbursts of the frequent past. She had a handle on herself again, and her complaints now reminded him of the days when he'd been undercover; when he'd first gotten to know her. Of the plucky Skye who had a fierce determination to accomplish her goals and do what was truly right, in line with protocol or not. And at the moment those goals seemed to revolve around Ward.

"Shall we recount my sins… again?" he asked wryly, to which he was met with a scowling pout. Skye didn't like it when he'd treat this less serious than she deemed it. "How about you focus on yourself for now. If they think I need time to repent, it's understandable."

More than understandable. It was undoubtedly deserved.

"How long did Romanoff repent, huh?" Skye asked. "Coulson raves about her like she's the teacher's pet. But  _she_  started out in the Red Room."

"I'm no better than Romanoff," Ward told her firmly. "Don't pretend like I did nothing wrong, Skye."

"I'm not. Trust me, I know you did things wrong," Skye said, allowing the memories of betrayal and disbelief to bite at her. In fact, wrong didn't begin to cover it.

But Skye believed that his mistakes were done under enough manipulation that there  _could_  be good in him, even if he'd been a grown man making those horrific decisions. Ideas that he'd been doing the right thing when it was truly the opposite had been planted in him by Garrett since he was fifteen. And that man left Ward isolated in the woods for years…

Grant had told her that during one of their chats. She wondered if anyone else knew.

And Skye had witnessed glimpses of the good he harbored. If someone,  _anyone_  was willing to give him a chance, maybe she could see even more.

"It's just that I believe in redemption," she continued. "And based on his track record Coulson does too, so why won't he of all people give you a chance? People can't redeem themselves if they don't have a chance to!"

Ward's throat suddenly got very dry.

He remembered when Coulson had spoken to him just after Skye had been hurt. He remembered how cold the man had been, calling Ward sick. Psychotic. And it wasn't caused by the fact that he'd killed S.H.I.E.L.D. members, that he'd been a lying traitor to the team or left FitzSimmons in the ocean. No. It was because of how much he cared for Skye.

An unhealthy obsession, which Ward himself could recognize. But until he could learn to be a good person without having someone he truly wanted to do it for, he didn't care. She was his rock, she was helping him to find himself. The person he hoped he could be.

She was his anchor, too.

But all Coulson could see Ward as was the one who broke Skye. That it was his fault they'd brought her into that room and his fault she'd been in pieces these past months.

Of which, Coulson was right.

Ward was trying to put her back together, help her in any way he could, but it was not for redemption. It was because he truly cared about the girl, and wanted to do something good. She made him want to be good.

What he wasn't sure of was if Skye realized that he was the reason she'd been tortured. And maybe she'd thought about it, maybe she hadn't, but now was the time to discuss it.

"You know the position you were put in… it never would have happened if it weren't for me," Ward said, as Skye cocked her head with intrigue. "They were on the plane to get me, and they'd chosen you to make me talk because they saw we had a connection when I'd only speak to you in interrogations."

"So Coulson doesn't want to give you a chance because he's pissed at you," Skye finished quietly.

Somehow, the direct connection between Ward and that they'd chosen her to torment hadn’t  quite clicked in her mind since it happened. Because sure, she'd known from the moment they sat her down in that cold metal chair that she was there as leverage against him. In fact, she'd never felt fury like that before. Especially not directed so steadily at someone.

All she'd saw him as was her psychopathic stalker, who for some reason idoled her above everyone else so much that she was going to take his punishment for him until he couldn't stand seeing her pain, and even then she wouldn't want him to give up S.H.I.E.L.D. information. So no matter what transpired, she would lose.

Skye hadn't deserved that. She had no reciprocated feelings that should make her liable to give him such a gift: her pain for his.

But when he hadn't handed over information for no one but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s benefit…

Turned out they made a pretty good team. Ward kept the secrets while Skye took the repercussions, because without him to be their keeper, Hydra would have gotten their hands on them.

After that, any feelings of blame were just… gone.

"I'll admit, when I first had to come talk to you for intel here at the base… I wasn't too happy about it. It was sort of a weird request Ward," said Skye.

Ward knew he'd been a mess of confused emotions at that point. Dealing with the loss of Garrett, or even just in general, the loss of his entire life. Skye had been on the list of losses and he'd begun to see it as the only one he could make up.

"It was the only way I could think to see you."

"I get that now. At first I thought you wanted to talk to me because you thought I'd be the easiest to… get to."

 _Manipulate,_  corrected Ward in his mind.

"I had information about your family," said Ward. "And it's really no secret that I just wanted to see you."

She looked down, trying to hide a shy smile. She wondered what she'd ever done to warrant such praise from him. Praise that, at the moment he'd first wanted to see her, she couldn't think of anything that she'd wanted less.

God, their situation really was twisted.

"You do know you're kind of crazy, right?" Skye said, her tone light. "If I ever manage to convince somebody to let you out and be an asset, we're going to need tons of counseling."

"We?" asked Ward skeptically, cocking a brow.

"Oh yeah. I'm messed up too," she insisted.

And if she was honest with herself, as true as her feelings for Ward were becoming, perhaps that was another reason she was so hell-bent on getting him out of there.

If she could fix him, maybe she could fix herself.

And maybe she could start with something simpler.

"You know… I rerouted the feeds this time," she said, picking herself off the bed and taking smooth, deliberate steps towards his leaning stance on the wall. "No one's watching."

"Is that so?"

"Stone cold fact."

She pressed her lips against his quickly then, silencing any calculated response about what they should or shouldn't be doing that he might have had. His scruffy beard tickled her as he returned the favor, causing her to grin under his tongue.

Skye broke off, dragging her teeth against her bottom lip with anticipation as she eagerly grabbed his hand and began pulling him to the other side of the room.

He was somewhat shocked and extremely excited, in more ways than one, when she pushed him hard onto the cot and clambered on top of him. The girl wasn't giving Ward a moment to think, her small form pressing against him after mere moments and smothering him with another powerful kiss.

She wasn't even coming up to breathe as she started to roll up his shirt, but the moment he felt the air bite into his bare skin he grabbed her wrists.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching him under dark eyelashes. It made her look much more innocent than he'd ever seen Skye before, or guessed she probably was.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Skye cocked her head, thinking momentarily. "I don't take this stuff lightly, Ward. I know what I'm doing," she told him, shaking her wrists out of his grip, placing her hands on either side of him. What she'd said was true, sans that momentary lapse of judgment with Hunter, and there was no way Ward could know about that.

"But the drug…" Ward mumbled uncertainly. He knew for a fact he would never be able to forgive himself, or deserve such a thing, if the drug was actually still working her mind over as they did this. If one day she recognized her true feelings with clarity, only to realize a man she hated, a Hydra traitor, had left her more marred. More marked.

Skye sure didn't seem to think that was the case.

"Trust me; my mind has never been more clear," she said in sultry low tones, and he only caught her impish grin for a moment before her shirt was covering it up, the clothe coming free of her body as Skye brought it over her head. She whipped it into the corner across the vault. "And you helped it get that way." She brought her head down to layer soft kisses to his neck.

Ward stilled. Did she feel like she owed him this? Was she offering up her body as repayment for helping her through something he himself had caused? Had she convinced herself this was right when it wasn't, just to appease someone she felt indebted to?

That last part sounded familiar.

Ward willed himself to open his eyes from the pleasure he was enjoying as Skye's tongue ran over his neck. He wanted to tell her to stop, to think, to talk to him about this.

She seemed to sense a change in him so she brought her head up, tucking but a small amount of errant hair behind her ear. He felt her gentle hands rest on his chest as he took in the sight of her, knowing that even if this went no farther he'd never forget this view of Skye on top of him: cascading hair, purple bra, nothing but extreme want in her eyes...

And the scar.

He didn't want to notice it. Not because it made him think any less of Skye or, what was to him, her pristine form. But if she could sense that he'd even noted it she'd have been upset, even with the refreshed outlook on her situation.

But he was taking her all in at this moment.  _All_ of her. He did not feel anything resembling that of disgust by the scar, instead noting a sense of awe that Skye could make anything alluring, even something that represented what he'd now come to despise. On her, it was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Skye was quite aware Grant Ward was good looking. But if he looked good in tactical gear or even some lucky times she'd managed to catch him without a top on, he looked magnificent now. He may have been in prisoner's garb, had a beard that could warrant him to join the Duck Dynasty crew, but she knew this was right. It was right for them, and that fact just made the sight of him beyond perfect.

They may have been messed up people stumbling through life trying to decide what was right, making some bad decisions on the way, but to her, there was no way this was one of them.

Skye knelt down to land another mark on the his lips as Ward began bringing his hands up with the intent of telling her to stop, just to be sure for her, but both stilled in their actions.

The door opened.

Their attentions were momentarily drawn towards the source of the sound, and Skye looked back at Ward with something like panic.

She might have been ready for this, but ready for the team to know? They wouldn't even talk to the guy. Not to mention their exact current position… kind of embarrassing. Even if it wasn't Ward.

Training kicking in, she rolled sideways until she was off of Ward and the cot entirely, pressing herself into the ground. Her stomach was cold on the hard floor and she cursed herself for having thrown her shirt so far away in her excitement.

He sat up immediately, but not in a panic. He twiddled his thumbs and made himself appear bored, as though his whole world weren't being shaken five seconds ago at the thought of the woman he loved offering herself to him.

Did he just admit that to himself? But of course, there was no other word for it.

 _Focus Grant,_  he willed at himself, bringing forth his training as a specialist.

He heard someone walking down the stairs, their approach echoing in his ears. He didn't hear Skye at all. Not even her breathing just a couple feet away.

Ten out of ten for stealth.

"Do you remember what I promised you?" he heard the soft British voice, and he heard the undercurrent of emotions that came with it. The barrier opened.

Simmons stood, almost expectant, staring in at his little cell.

"Do you?" she asked, more firmly this time. She required an answer.

"Yes," Ward admitted after another moment of hesitation.

She didn't say anything. Just stared. And for how bad of a liar Ward knew she was, he could not read her face. It was cool. It was undecided.

That was it. He couldn't read it because she didn't know what to think either.

The silence was lasting too long. The girl next to the bed wasn't making a sound, but for whatever reason Simmons decided to make this visit, he hoped it was a short one. For Skye's sake. He decided to move the conversation.

"So is that what you've come here to do?" asked Ward. "Kill me?"

There was a twitch in her face. "Maybe. I'm not entirely sure yet."

Ward had an inkling she did know. Simmons, who for all he'd known had never murdered anyone, would not take such a thing lightly.

He hadn't taken the threat lightly when she'd said it, though.

"What are you doing to Skye?" she asked, a tremble of anger to her voice.

Ward thought she might elaborate, but when she didn't, he answered. "Nothing."

"Do you know she's trying to get people to talk to you? That she asked  _Fitz_ to talk to you? He gave you nothing but chances before and somehow Skye thinks you deserve more."

Skye set her forehead on the ground, wishing she could be anywhere but in this cell at the moment. Maybe asking  _Fitz_  had been too much…

"I didn't…  _try_  to get her to do those things, Simmons," said Ward, ever aware that Skye was listening in. "She just seems to think I help her feel better."

"I saw the feed," said the scientist, quiet and abrupt. "When she was suddenly so different and eager to help you I checked the log. I saw her kiss you, which was of course appalling." She took a moment to pause, as though thinking about it with renewed disgust. "Before  _this_  happened to Skye, I hope you know, she was physically repulsed by you, so I just don't understand how you getting her  _tortured_  has somehow convinced her to be snared by your lies again!"

"It wasn't-"

"Because she is not the same, Ward! My friends are not the same because of you. Because you're Hydra. Because of what you've done. Because of the bloody awful decisions  _you've_ made in life my friends are damaged!"

Skye could feel tears sting in her eyes. Then she could hear them in Simmons' voice.

"And I do want to kill you for that," Simmons admitted. "I'd honestly be pleased if there were a malfunction in this cell of some sort and you just turned up dead."

Ward didn't try to speak. Didn't want to provoke.

The scientist let out a shaky breath, and Ward could tell she was all but falling apart. "But I can't do it. Not just because you're unarmed and defenseless in there, because we all know you're anything but defenseless," she scoffed. "I just don't understand why you didn't  _leave._ "

On the feed. When Skye left the barrier open.

Maybe Simmons felt doubt because she could see that it was all to help Skye, that he was just trying to do the right thing then. To atone for his actions, because he knew, he was fairly certain he knew, which ones had been wrong.

"And I think it's because you're just really that mad," said Simmons, crushing Ward's hopes of what conclusions she'd come to. "You're just an actual, deluded mental person. You told Coulson you were still a part of his team. You told Fitz you  _saved_ his life!" Simmons spat, and it was hard to miss the disgust in her voice. "And then you didn't leave. So that's it Ward. You're just insane. You're mentally ill."

He didn't think he was crazy. Obsessed and confused perhaps, but not mentally ill. Then again, crazy people didn't know when they were crazy. Maybe Ward  _was_  sick. Well, he knew he was to an extent. But could it go further than his mind even recognized?

Was Skye crazy too?

Maybe that's why they fit so well together.

"So no, I'm not going to kill you," Simmons with an air of finality. She'd been standing, almost patiently waiting, a few feet behind the barrier. She stepped up now, and the cold look from when she'd made her threat in the past was present. "But you must stop pursuing Skye."

Ward almost didn't answer. Almost. "She's the one who comes here."

"Yes, and you're filling her head with delusions in her weakened state!" she insisted.

Skye felt her hands clench.  _Damaged_  and  _weakened_ , her friend just called her. And Skye remembered that Simmons had agreed that she should keep her neck covered, that she should hide herself. Her friend had less faith and worth in Skye than this man she was currently putting down.

"Ward, please, just… let her heal."

Simmons looked rather broken, as though she decided what she wanted her current emotion to be. Not angry, not determined. Just sad. Sad for her friend and what she determined  _he_  was doing to her. Of course he didn't want to do anything to Skye, though, he just wanted -

_BEEP BEEP BEEP_

The Brit looked around wildly as red lit up the room, alerting everyone to the danger. Something was happening. Something bad. Ward had never seen this alarm at the Playground before.

Neither had Skye, for that matter.

"Oh lord," Simmons mumbled. She looked at the tablet, and her eyes widened in fear. "Oh god!"

There was no way Simmons was going to clue Ward in as to what was going on, so it was with a dead set of realization and a sigh that Skye pulled herself swiftly off the ground.

"What's going on?" she asked firmly, hoping to put enough urgency in her voice that Simmons would ignore the sudden appearance of a third person.

It didn't work.

"Where did you bloody come from?" Jemma screeched after a brief, actual scream. This was before taking in Skye's appearance of no shirt, even as the girl was actively walking across the room to gather it up. "Oh god, Skye, you didn't…"

If her words of how she was _damaged_ and _broken_ hadn't already angered Skye, the utter amount of disappointment as she thought she'd slept with Ward sure did.

"We  _didn't_ but if we  _did_  that wouldn't really be the issue right now, would it?" Skye stressed. Maybe a bit snappily. She was hurt by a few of Simmons' words. "What's going on?"

The scientist regained focus. Her face turned to a hard mask as she held out the tablet for Skye -and most likely unintentionally, Ward - to see. She'd changed it from the controls of Ward's cell. It held video feeds of the base now.

"Hydra. They're here. They're in the Playground." There was fear in Simmons voice, as well she tried to hide it.

But Skye couldn't hide the fear on her face. It enveloped her, bodily and complete as it wrapped her up like a cocoon. She froze midway through putting her shirt on. Didn't even bother to tug it down as it lay rolled up on her stomach.

They weren't supposed to come here. She was supposed to be safe here. Here, where she was unprepared in her haven, where she allowed herself to be vulnerable and not a stone cold agent as she'd been taught. They were not supposed to come here!

"Oh god, they've gotten the others," Simmons said in horror. She was looking at the screen, eyes glued. Unaware of Skye. Skye was unaware of Skye, even as Ward put a hand on her back. She barely flinched. She was unaware of Ward, or Simmons trying to talk to her. "Lord… Skye, what do we do?"

Skye didn't know. Because all she could think about was how the burn on her neck was starting to tingle, all too eager to reunite with the people who'd seared it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole beginning bit is Ward's dream, in which he was interpreting what she went through in his own head, and dreamt as though he were her. His psyche is a bit of a mess. Sorry if that's unclear, I do actually try to leave dreams a bit wonky.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye has a plan for dealing with Hydra. Ward and Simmons are not fans of it.

 

"What do we do?" Simmons asked again.

Skye didn't answer. She was definitely thinking about it, but she didn't have an answer yet, so she did not answer. Just paced.

"Skye rerouted the feeds before she came down, it's probably why they haven't made it here yet. They think-"

"I didn't ask you!" Simmons snarled. Her face softened as she pondered the words. "Wait. She rerouted… oh Skye…" her voice held so much disappointment, but she shook her head to rid herself of it. "Lord, now is not the time to be thinking about that. But Skye when we get out of this we are going to have a discussion about that!"

That snapped Skye back into the moment. She froze; spun around.

"You're not my  _mom_  Simmons," she said harshly. She'd never really used that expression before. Considering she didn't have one anyhow, as a kid that fact could bite her in the ass with that saying, but it seemed way too appropriate.

"I know I'm not but I care about you an awful lot and I just want to help you," she said firmly, though her voice cracked. Oh. She was trying to hold back tears, and Skye suddenly felt pretty bad. Simmons was scared.

Skye was scared.

"I know. Sorry," Skye mumbled.

Ward watched Skye as she paced. She began rubbing the mark vehemently, like she'd done in the past when she'd get nervous. The thought of Hydra being there must have alarmed her to the point that it brought back her tick. It made sense to connect the two. Not only did it hold their logo, but she'd gained it the last time she'd encountered the organization.

"We can't just hide here!" said Simmons.

"You're right. They'll come down eventually, even if it's just to get information from me."

Simmons gave Ward a harsh glare for speaking, but did not stop him this time.

Skye ran her fingers harshly through her hair as they scraped over her head. "I don't know what to do. We have nothing! We have no weapons… and the moment we step out of those doors they'll be able to see us."

It was a small mercy that they themselves had links to the videos too, so they could see that the team was still alive.

Capture and determine worth, right? The Hydra way.

Some of them could make it out of this. That particular way.

They had no weapons. Simmons couldn't fight. There were way too many men to get themselves out by force.

But if they could prove their worth... they could at least live.

Skye already knew they would have kept her for her hacking capabilities. And they clearly wanted people as skilled as Simmons since she actually worked for the place, albeit undercover, but she'd got the gig. And Ward… maybe she could convince Hydra he was still on their side.

The sheer thought of working for Hydra sickened Skye. It reminded her of her weakness, but she knew there was only one choice.

The others did not like it.

 

* * *

 

 

Skye had haphazardly tied her hair up in a high ponytail. Now hyper-aware of the loose strands that bobbed on her shoulders, she ascended the stairs. The pieces strayed over her burn as well. Maybe that's why she was noticing them so much.

No no no. That mark meant nothing.  _It doesn't affect you anymore_ , she told herself.

She opened the door to Vault E to peak outside, but there was no one in her immediate vicinity. "Hey," she called out. "Hey, hail Hydra!" The words were cautious and uncertain, but just mere moments after she called out, multiple soldiers dressed in identical camo came bolting towards her, weapons raised. Skye didn't have a weapon though, and just raised her hands.

"Whoa, please don't shoot," she said, almost quietly. Timidly, backing down a bit when she saw the soldiers. "I'd give you a white flag if I had one."

A soldier scoffed. "You're surrendering?"

"Where did she even come from!" said another. "She wasn't on the surveillance, there's just a prisoner down there."

"I turned off the cameras," she admitted. "I've been… consorting with a Hydra captive lately and didn't want our director to find out."

"Oh, right," said the first soldier in disbelief. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I'm terrified of Hydra!" she exclaimed, almost seeming to stun the soldiers. They looked to each other uncertainly. "We're fighting a losing war and I didn't want to be on the wrong side. I thought he could help me."

She nervously tucked a hair behind her ear.

"Oh I see," sneered the soldier with a cruel smile. He lowered his gun and beelined towards her. She didn't move, her hands raised in the air even as he wrapped gloved fingers around her neck and pulled her forward. He offered her up for the rest of the group to see. "Look here…" he sang. "Blackwell got a hold of her. Not so compliant to Hydra before, now were we?"

"No," she admitted.

The soldier held her awkwardly. His hand only wrapped halfway around her neck as he made sure her head jutted sideways, giving the rest of the men the opportune eyeline to see her scar.

"So why would Hydra want you?" the soldier asked, hot breath on her cheek that came from behind her head. She couldn't see him, not from this vantage. But she had no doubts that his face held enjoyment.

"I'm good with computers," she professed. "Weirdly good. I can be an asset to Hydra, I know it."

"Defiant enough to get a brand, and now she's  _begging_  to be recruited." The soldier laughed, moving so that he was in her vision as he let go of her neck. "This isn't a job interview, sugar." He turned his head back to the group. "Put her with the others."

"I have more," she insisted lightly. Her arms were up in surrender, her eyes turned downward in defeat. How feeble she must have appeared...

"Oh do you?" He sounded amused. "By all means, feel free to share."

"The man downstairs  _was_ Hydra, but he tried to get out."

"No one leaves Hydra."

"I'm getting that." Skye gulped. "Thing is, he's kind of amazing at what he does. Detaining him could be a problem for your group with his skill set. But I could take you down there myself and convince him to come. He would be a worthy asset too-"

"So why would he listen to you?" asked a soldier in the back.

"Because he loves me," Skye said simply. Casually. And it wasn't really until that moment that she believed it to be real, or even realized it. "He'll come. I have a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist down there as well. She came snooping."

"What makes you think I believe any of this?" growled the soldier, voice all of a sudden very cold, as was her temple. Oh. She had a gun pressed against her head.

Skye shut her eyes and braced herself, but the man's voice rang through her ears in a way that made her want to repel from its false sweetness. "So your neck has a pretty little mark to match the logo on my jacket, big whoop." He pressed the gun harder. "Again, why should I believe a word you say?"

"Because she's my project!"

Skye immediately opened her eyes. She honestly did not expect to hear that voice.

He walked over to her with a confident gusto that looked strange on the man, as his natural stance seemed to be shrouded in shadows. It was like was excited to see her. Well, she could say with certainty that she did not return the feeling.

Her throat felt dry. Her arms were near getting tired too, but she held them raised.

The man stopped in front of her. "Skye… are you still mad at me, dear?"

" _Yes_ ," she gritted out, truth ringing behind the statement. She could admit that, she thought.

"But you'd still come with me. You'd still come work for my employers," he said in an overconfident tone, the infuriating smirk taking up too much of his face. Still, she nodded. "Hah! You see? You see what Hydra can do?"

He was addressing the group now. Like this was some sort of teaching moment. A lesson.

"This girl hates me, but she's smart. She knows that power and pain will win out, and she's already suffered the consequences of Hydra's power… which included pain, hmhm."

He brushed over her scar with one long finger, gently drifting over the raised surface. Skye's eyes moved sideways so not to look at him.

He slapped her back the other direction.

She had barely recognized the sting blooming in her cheek before he grabbed her chin to look at him. That was good. She had felt herself flash back to the room for a moment, felt herself in that chair again. But she needed focus and he gave her that.

Payne released her once he was sure she was her eyes were centered on the man, only wanting her attention. "Just a reminder of what happens if you cross us," he said offhandedly. Teeth were revealed as his lips rose up, slow enough to haunt nightmares. Long, crooked teeth. Like a rat's.

She could feel the burning sensation on her face now. It was relatively small but she allowed it to bloom and spread, from irritating the mark on her neck to initiating the tears glistening in her eyes. She glared at him.

"Like I need  _another_ reminder," Skye bit out spitefully through the outset of tears. But he  _must_  have known that already, or at least assumed it. He just liked to witness pain.

"I do wish I could take credit for that reminder," he told her quietly. He circled the scar on her neck almost absentmindedly, and it took all Skye had not to cringe away. "Isn't it amazing that how even in death, he is controlling your actions at this very moment?"

The small man laughed again, looking ecstatic as to how far this person in front of him seemed to have broken.

"Take her downstairs," he said jollily. The first man she'd been talking to wasted no time in holding on to her arm. "She'll get Grant Ward to come with you, I'm sure. And she is not lying, that man is a true asset." He was addressing the soldiers, but he turned to her with enthusiasm beaming in his eyes. "As they say, kill two birds with one stone!"

The soldier began to lead her away, three of the others coming in their wake. Skye turned back to where Payne was left with the other four.

"Sir, our orders are to get as much information from this facility as possible," a soldier told him. "Through any means necessary."

"Wonderful," he said in awed tones. "There's a certain Director I would love to make my acquaintance with," he mused. "Then of course, I'd like to beat him until he tells me everything there is to know about the pathetic remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Skye barely registered the creepy laugh at the end of his sentence. All she knew was that she had to get down to Ward now, and she had to start getting things done fast.

 

* * *

 

"Do you really think Skye knows what she's doing."

Simmons sounded miserable. Ward didn't blame her though; sitting in a cell with someone you despised while your friend went off on a long-shot gambit was not a situation to automatically instill feelings of hope.

"Skye's smart. This was the best play," Ward offered.

Simmons glared at him from the corner of his cell. He'd invited her to use the bed, but the mere suggestion had revulsion gleaming on her face. He didn't sit on the bed either.

Her knees curled in tighter to her stomach.

Ward heard the screech of old metal that he knew to be the vault door opening. The scrape of the door on the floor was something Grant had his ears trained for by now, always wishing he'd hear that sound; wanting only one person to appear down the steps.

Simmons' head perked up with the noise, but she still looked just as put out.

Ward watched as Skye was marched down the stairs. A man had a grip on her, but the hold was soft, merely to guide her. Three more soldiers followed behind. Their weapons had been down, but the more Ward and Simmons came into view, their guns began to pop up. The man's hand tightened around Skye's shoulder.

"I thought you said they were in a cell?" he growled.

"They are," she told him, having to bite back sarcastic remarks about his obvious stupidity. "It's an Inertial Confinement Laser Barrier."

"A what?"

Now she had to resist an eye roll. "Laser beams?" she tried. "You know, things that block people or even burn them to a crisp if they get too close." She gestured to the tablet, set up on a stand before the line of the cell. "That controls it."

The ringleader holding Skye went to inspect said tablet, nodding as he was satisfied with what he saw. He looked to the prisoners. "You two going to come quietly? Or do we need persuasion…"

The soldiers cocked their guns.

"Ward…"

"I know Skye," he said eagerly. "I'll come. It's what you want."

The soldier scoffed. "Wow. That really is love right there."

Ward had to suppress the shock at hearing the word, which he inferred the soldier used because Skye had used it before him. Surprise hidden deep inside, he shrugged. "To be honest, she's the only reason I left Hydra. It'll be nice to go back to doing what I enjoy."

"How domestic of you," sneered the soldier, before looking to Jemma. "How about you sweetheart?"

Her nostrils flared, and she began shaking her head vehemently. "Never."

The soldier sighed. "Do we really have to come in there and get you?"

She was still seated on the ground, actually looking incredibly petulant as she refused. "I invite you to try."

"C'mon Simmons… just go with them!" Skye pleaded. "It's better than-"

"I would rather die than work for Hydra!" Simmons bellowed over her, and Skye stepped back slightly in shock.

Ringleader rolled his eyes. "Little melodramatic, don't you think? Anyway..." His fingers punched into the tablet, and Skye watch the gridline’s orange color light up, then disappear completely.

Ward walked out straight away to stand next to Skye, another man taking hold of his arm. This grip was loose as well.

Simmons stared, defiant and brave as the men descended on her. Walked right into her personal space and grabbed onto her forearms. But then she wasn't quiet and placid. Still defiant though, as she began screaming and thrashing against the soldiers while they hauled her up.

That was their cue.

Skye slammed her foot into the boot of the soldier who was holding her, followed by a quick back-handed jab to his face. His hands rushed to protect his almost certainly broken nose as Skye rushed to access the gun in his now unprotected holster.

Meanwhile, Ward was having about an equally as smooth experience. The soldier that was holding him was so distracted by the ruckus being made by the scientist that Grant was able to go directly for the weapon, only hitting the man on the head with the thing once he had it.

"Hey!" Skye shouted to the soldiers harassing Simmons. Very few seconds had passed since the girl started screaming, and Skye could tell her distraction had worked perfectly. From the stupefaction on their faces, they'd been completely unaware that Skye and Ward had disarmed their companions. And Skye had even accomplished getting her previous captor's hands in the air.

Simmons had managed to keep herself on the ground with the thrashing. Both soldiers loomed over her. One still held her arm. He used this, beginning to hoist her up-

The soldier crumpled to the ground as Ward's bullet connected with his leg, while he screamed in agony.

"Let her walk," ordered Ward coldly. The other soldier hesitated. He seemed ready to grab for his only bargaining chip as well. "You're getting a verbal warning, so don't assume you'll be as lucky as your friend over there."

"He means shoot to kill," clarified Skye.

"Yeah, got that," growled the soldier inside the cell.

"You seemed kinda slow. I wanted to be sure."

Both Ward and Skye got the sense that the moment this man had a chance to, he was going to take them both out. All of them, if he felt the need to hurt Simmons as well. But for the moment he did as he was told. He stepped aside.

Jemma clambered up off the ground frantically and bolted passed the barrier's threshold, to which Skye and Ward quickly pushed their captors-made-prisoners through. Simmons went directly towards the tablet and closed them in. Then shut off the sound.

The absence of the screaming guy was nice.

Skye decided she didn't want to look at Hydra men either. She reached over Jemma and hit the opaque button on the tablet.

"What now?" asked Simmons. Staring intently at the other two people, she seemed almost completely unfazed; though they both knew this to be a tough façade she'd built up. Still, it was impressive. "I take it those weren't the only people in the base."

"They're going after Coulson," Skye said. "They want intel and Coulson is the highest up. Payne wants to make him talk."

Simmons looked horrified. Ward was calculating.

"So we get up there and stop them before he gets a chance to." Simple enough, Ward thought.

Skye shook her head. "They know where the base is now. They'll get the information no matter what. And I know the encryption is solid, but a ton of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents can get access. One mole, a prisoner forced into talking… whatever! What I'm saying is-"

"We have to get rid of it."

Skye's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Not because they were off track. That was exactly what she was getting at.

Ward and Simmons had spoken at the same time. Of all the people to be in sync…

"Right," Skye agreed eventually. "I'll have to go to the main servers to do it, and it's going to take some time."

Sounded like a good plan. But Ward would not let Skye go alone. "I'll cover you."

"No. You and Simmons go together to-"

"Whoa!" protested Jemma, who up until that point had been listening patiently and taking in every word Skye said as though she'd been voted leader. "Skye… he is  _Hydra._ He is a Hydra prisoner living in our bloody basement that has been poisoning your mind! I'm not going to go with him."

Skye scrunched her nose; pursed her lips in frustration. "Look, I cannot keep you safe. I'm going to be working overtime to get these files out of there. If something happens I won't even be able to protect _myself_ , Jemma," Skye sighed. She needed her to understand this. "The information… it's more valuable than our lives."

"And I understand that, but-"

"You will have a better chance with Ward. He can protect you."

"I can protect you both," Ward insisted.

"Wrong again, robot," Skye said. She was almost surprised at the small sentimental slip. "You need to make sure the rest of the agents aren't in life-threatening danger."

Simmons scoffed. "Well, I think it's a tad late for that…"

"Payne said he needed information," Skye continued. She closed her eyes briefly. "We know what that means. Hurt, not kill. But if he goes too far, or uses one of the other agents' lives… you two are going to have to make a call."

Ward understood. The call to reveal themselves, let their location be known, to attempt to save information or an agent's life.

"Once I discard the files, I'll be able to make a distraction and come find you guys. With any luck we can grab the BUS and get out of here before they send backup."

Simmons did not look happy. Quite the opposite. Hugging herself with the deepest scowl Skye thought possible on her face. But she didn't protest, and Skye took that as acceptance.

Ward didn't like the thought of leaving Skye. But she was right, tactically this made the most sense. The only possible better option would be to get Simmons out of the base entirely, but that would be risking revealing themselves even more. No, working together to free the agents and get rid of the files was surely the best way to go.

If he didn't think Simmons would protest or get angered, he would have told Skye " _I'll take good care of her,"_  or even put a hand on the scientist's shoulder. Instead, he just nodded.

"Coulson always says his acceptable number of casualties is zero," Skye said. "Let's hope we can stick to that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was Skye's plan from the getgo, to act scared and get them downstairs. In case that wasn't clear.


	10. Setting the Fox to Guard the Henhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward, Simmons, and Skye try to get rid of Hydra before the interrogation of Coulson goes to far.

"Everyone got a pair of goggles?" asked Skye. Simmons and Ward nodded.

As per the usual of the day - today, the day that Simmons found Ward and Skye in their apparently  _untidy_  position, while Jemma decided to take the high road, until Hydra itself walked in- Simmons looked angry and upset.

Not that the day didn't call for it.

Skye didn't want to leave them. She knew Simmons was not comfortable with going with Ward. She knew Ward wouldn't like the thought of having to take care of Simmons. In some sense, at least. Whether it was because he cared for no one but Skye and himself or because he didn't want to look the girl he threw off a plane in the face, she didn't know.

Skye thought he did care about Simmons, though.

And he jumped off a plane to rescue her as much as her threw her off one. So.

Did that count for something?

"How do we know they aren't watching us now?" asked Simmons, because they were out of the looped feed that was Vault E.

"We don't." Skye shrugged. "We can hope that the boys we have locked up in there were the ones watching any monitors, but we can't be sure." She clutched the item each of them had gotten from the cabinet dearly. She wished it had held ICERs, too, but those were farther into the base. At least they'd gotten the weapons off the soldiers now in the vault, but those were lethal. "So we have to move. Be careful, ok?"

They nodded again. Didn't they have anything to say?

She guessed it was probably better that they didn't.

They parted. Kinda awkwardly, as it seemed like the pair both wanted to give Skye some kind of good luck hug. Or pat on the back. Maybe a "don't die" kiss, in Ward's case. But neither yearned to do it in front of the other it seemed, or maybe Simmons didn't want to do it at all because was too upset with Skye. Or upset in general.

Either way, they'd all just sort of took off.

Skye headed towards the mainframe. She'd made a point to back up most of the base's information anyhow, but she knew where a hard drive was to snag the rest of it. Then she could destroy the remainder by just starting a delete-all command or maybe give Hydra a run for their money by planting a virus - letting the bastards have some false hope could be fun- but mainly, just whatever would take the least amount of time.

Rescuing the agents and getting off the base was the main priority. Get out before they could call in reinforcements. Hopefully the BUS wasn't taken yet.

Then… well, she didn't know what would happen then. She didn't know what they'd do without their new(ish) S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters home. She didn't know what they'd do with Grant. What Simmons would think of her.

 _Mission mode, Skye,_  she reminded herself. Because, yeah.

Getting out alive was definitely a good start.

* * *

 

"You said based on the feed that you think they're being held in the northwest area of the base, right?"

He was met with silence.

"Simmons," he urged. Gently.

"Yes," she said grudgingly. "I did say that, didn't I?"

Ward sighed. He knew this wasn't going to be a cakewalk, but… "Simmons, we need to work together on this if you don't want the team hurt. I don't know the base and you do."

"Correct. But I also don't trust you."

"That's fine," he said. "Be wary; that makes a good agent. But we don't have time for even hesitations, and I know you're smart enough to realize that spite isn't going to help you find out my truthful personality at the moment."

She wanted to glare, he could tell. But she must have found usefulness in the comment, taking no more pause. "This base was built in the 1940s, back when the ventilation shafts were made to be larger. There should be one just over that northwest corridor that most likely will lead to that room. Does that help, tactically?"

"Perfect," Ward said, and he'd said it flatly. That was what he had to do around this girl, have minimal emotion. She obviously wouldn't mind seeing him dead, and any excuse for his usefulness to expire would probably give her reason to do so, in her mind. She had a gun. They all did, but he wouldn't use one on her, he’d made the decision, even to defend himself.

So in exquisite spy cliché etiquette, they made their way above the room using the air vents. Simmons went second, as insisted upon.

He hadn't argued.

They shimmied about to where the agents were being held, using the night vision goggles along the way. Those were convenient to have. Simmons had a phone that could have lit up the way too. But, still.

They heard screams minutes before they got to the correct room.

Then Ward heard that  _voice_.

"Are we having fun yet, Director Coulson?" said an all-too excited tone. "I'm just getting started, but if you so desire it doesn't have to take too long. This can end when I get the information!"

Maybe they'd planted Payne in the base. Maybe this was Hydra's plan all along. Because it certainly was Hydra. If Blackwell were here, he may have, of his own accord, wanted the information to satiate his curiosity. Promote himself.

Payne would perhaps hurt people for the fun of it, but to actually interrogate? No, that man had orders.

That only made the situation more dangerous, because Coulson would not be one to let him get it.

"Oh god," Simmons all but yelped. She had tried to keep herself quiet, he could tell. Still, she needed to not speak so not to give them away. And Ward should have told her that. Or reminded her.

He didn't.

He was trying to do the right thing. It was so hard to tell what the right thing was at the moment, when his only companion was someone who despised him.

If something came down to a tough call, would she believe him that he was doing it for the greater good? What he really thought was best, in the eyes of a man trying to help, and not through the mind of a Hydra soldier?

Probably not.

"I'm having fun," he heard Coulson's voice. It was strained and gurgled already, but he held a light tone. "Haven't had this much fun since Hydra put me in a memory machine. Glad to see you guys haven't lost your sense of amusement."

There was a quick gasp and a slicing sound. Ward couldn't see through the vent from their vantage, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know what was going on.

"If we can't see his condition, how long will we know to wait?" asked Simmons, and there was no contempt in her voice. Hearing Coulson's anguish must have hidden any unsavory feelings she had for Ward.

Unfortunately, for a trained field agent like Coulson, the answer to her question would be: quite a long time. Well, actually that would be  _fortunate_ , for the information and well being of the agency. To calm the girl next to him? Unfortunate.

Ward heard the laugh of that human embodiment of a rodent again.

"A memory machine? Oooh, that sounds intriguing! Pain in the brain," he sang. Oddly. "But if we keep going in this  _manner_ , you're going to have a great deal of scarring on the face, one would think. Mmhm."

"Nice," said Coulson. "I could use more roadmap to the soul."

The man laughed. "You must have found the soul of little Skye quite quickly then. I left some rather large scars on her."

There was a pause while he allowed Coulson to digest the dig. To react to it. Ward felt himself tense.

"She told me you weren't even the one to put the biggest scar on her," said Coulson, and Ward was actually impressed with his lack of reaction. Because the man was surely having one, on the inside. "That's not too impressive for a man of your profession, is it?"

Payne didn't falter either. "Maybe not. But I got to chat with her a few days ago, you know. And she really is just a mess!" he exclaimed, and then seemed to get caught in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "And the best part? Hehe - the best part! She- oh wait wait, first you must understand why it affected her so. Let me explain... Blackwell put our organization's insignia on her skin, yes?"

Ward didn't hear Coulson answer. The man continued.

"And she fell apart only because of her…" -he was trying to withhold giggles- " _intense_  loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D.! So the best part?" He was laughing again there. "The absolute  _best_  part is she surrendered to me! To Hydra! Right now, a few moments ago! Hahahaha. Bye bye loyalty. Bye bye!"

The man laughed and laughed. And while Ward couldn't be sure, he thought he heard Coulson growl. He spared a glance at Jemma. She surprisingly just looked fierce. Maybe because she knew the proclamation was false and that Skye'd been acting.

Simmons took it in stride. Or was at least trying to. Her brave face was on. She knew this had to happen.

So, for a while, they merely listened to the Director's gallant banter and pained noises in silence.

* * *

-FILE TRANSFER IN PROGRESS...

"Gooood little computer."

Skye began typing again. She figured she could set a virus while the files were still making their way to her hard drive. She couldn't delete them while they were still in transfer.

It was kind of depressing though, sabotaging her base's computers.

_Hah, you mean it's kind of funny. Remember how you had that thought of working for Hydra whenever you'd hack? Back when you were hurt and laid up after being tortured by them?_

Why was her mind bringing this up. Why.

_Well now you are literally doing something Hydra would want!_

No she wasn't. She was deleting files to  _deter_  Hydra.

_But you're deleting them from a S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Face it. If Hydra ends up with their hands on that hard drive, you may as well just be working for them!_

Damn that stupid thing on her neck. It hadn't itched like this since… well, since before she touched Ward. Since Ward touched her. Now it was like it was talking to her.

Hold up, Crazypants. It was  _not_  talking to her. The sudden irritation of it was reminding her, and her own head filled in the blanks.

Stupid head and its blanks.

 _Knock knock knock._ "Open up! We hear you typing."

Blanks that should really be filled at the moment with other things.

Like, staying  _alive_ things.

As she'd told Simmons, getting rid of this information was more important than protecting herself. But that hadn't stopped her from bolting the four-foot thick vaulted door that was the only way into the room.

"Get the C-4!" she heard.

_Brrraling!_

She heard a ding, like those lame noises on old computers when something finished. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't too hip with the times on their storage computer. She checked the screen.

-FILE TRANSFER COMPLETE

"Fantastic…" she muttered half-heartedly. Only with half her heart, because, yay! Files transferred! But. Boo, people were coming to blow you up and  _what the hell do something_!

She unplugged the hard drive and set it off to side in a haphazard hiding place. Quickly she walked back to the computer.

"Virus be damned…"

She tore the tower out from its wires - a few sparks did actually prick her skin-, setting it near the door in a sort of blockade.

That was what it looked like, but not the actual point of putting it against the door. What she was  _really_  doing actually reminded her of something she'd done when she was with Ward back in the day. When he was a good guy, undisputed. But just before he'd been found out to not have S.H.I.E.L.D. loyalties. Today, he'd been pretending to be Hydra.

They'd kind of come full circle.

Still, it reminded her of when she’d opened the bag to show him the explosives:

_‘Who said anything about hacking?’_

Just after the explosion that ripped open the door and destroyed the computer tower, along with any files Hydra might have hoped to get their hands on, soldiers started piling into the room. Hmm. Not piling. Only three soldiers.

She could, in fact, deal with that.

Skye felt slightly, well,  _awesome_  as she dangled from the ceiling. Upside down, shooting her three marks with minimal difficulty. She was a natural in marksmanship, if not having a rough time following orders undisputed. And she was still working on hand-to-hand combat. But give her time.

She'd climbed up to the rafters quickly after placing the tower, at least hoping to get the jump on a few of them when they came inside. Just to give them a run for their money. But three? Please.

Her only problem was that it hadn't been an ICER.

 _Two, three, four,_  ticked her personal death toll. Murder toll.

 _Field agent,_  she reminded herself.

Then she reminded herself she was also a hacker, because her job wasn't done yet. Simmons and Ward were still out there. There was still work to be done.

She took the time to pocket the soldiers' guns. One wasn't dead, and she tied him up with some wires.

_Three, then._

After that, she went to a different computer and got back to work.

Because this wasn't what she'd be doing for Hydra. It was what she could do for S.H.I.E.L.D. Computer science or field agent. Be the leader, be the soldier. It didn't matter.

Skye could, and more importantly  _would_ , always help the right side.

* * *

"It's starting to sound bad," Simmons commented.

Ward stayed silent.

He'd already known that. Voicing it wouldn't help. But he also knew her inevitable follow-up question.

"Don't you think we should try to stop him?"

Ah. There it was. Time for Simmons to hear the rough truth of the matter.

He turned around to look at her. "Skye told us we had to make a call."

"Yes, and by the sound of him, I think it should be made now!" she said in a hasty whisper.

Ward shook his head. "She also said this information was more valuable than our lives. Skye didn't mean before it got so bad that Coulson's life was in danger. She meant… doing something only if it seemed as though he were about to give up information."

Simmons mouth flung open, her eyebrows drawing together in absolute anger. "She meant no such thing! Skye wouldn't…" She gulped. "Skye wouldn't sacrifice Coulson like that!"

"Skye was speaking to you when she said the information was more important than us. Do you really think she'd let you go but not Coulson?" Ward pointed out. Simmons just stared, mouth open with intent to protest, but it seemed as though the voice had left her body. "This is what she meant. And I think we both know that Coulson is nowhere near breaking."

_Even if his body is._

Simmons heavily nodded. Her face was full of tears, but save for that, no one would know she'd been crying. Her facial features showed no signs of sadness, only determination.

That was, until about two seconds later.

"I think it's time we try a new game," they heard Payne sneer, and had the words not already inferred something was changing, the shift in his tone would have tipped Ward off. "I'm not usually one for playing with toys someone else has broken… but why not! They tell me he's one of your original teammates, so it should be  _extra_  fun, hmhm."

Simmons gasped.

It might have been the loudest noise she'd made thus far.

Ward didn't hear anything from Fitz, but he could only imagine his face. In Grant's mind, it wasn't unlike the terror present when he'd dropped FitzSimmons in the ocean.

Things had just gotten more complicated.

They shouldn't be, they really shouldn't, because Fitz wasn't more important than Coulson. If anything, arguably, Coulson was more important than Fitz. And both their deaths meant less to the thousands of people, agents or civilians, that would die if Ward revealed himself now. Got Skye caught before she'd have a chance to delete the base's hard drives.

Maybe Coulson would break for his agent, but it seemed unlikely. The man didn't know Ward, Simmons, and Skye were free. Therefore, in his mind, he knew they were all going to end up dead anyway.

So breaking to give Fitz a few more hours? Maybe a few less with the pain? It probably wouldn't happen, even for the kind director. Ward knew that man's loyalties. And as much as he loved his team, his first priority was to the greater good.

But then there was Fitz's other half sitting right next to Ward. More than half of the engineer really, because, Grant supposed, he had made Fitz less than himself when he caused him to have brain damage.

Ward had often repented, and wished that one meeting with Fitz could have gone differently.

How dare Ward say some of the things he had? He really had meant that he'd thought it was the best way to save them, but…

Why hadn't he just said sorry?

Payne's laughter tugged Grant out of his thoughts.

"So, Director Coulson," started Payne. "I have a whole mess of agents in the other room. Willing to give their lives for your  _cause,"_  he said mockingly. "So as you can see, there's no reason to even bother with pain. It's not like with our ex-agent Grant Ward, when the only person he cared about was your girl."

Ward was slightly shocked to hear his name, though he wasn't sure why. It would make sense. The last time this man had  _worked_ on someone was with him and Skye.

Not that it mattered. None of that mattered. What _did_ matter was that he wasn't going to hurt Fitz at all. It was so much worse. And to Ward, that made it so much simpler.

_Skye, I hope you've had enough time._

"You need to get to the end of the vent and find a place to hide," Ward said. "If you can get out, even better. But keep yourself safe."

"What?" asked Simmons breathlessly. She was practically swimming with the amount of tears on her face.

"I'm making that call," Ward told her, and something like hope nearly graced her face. "But if we do this, right now, they're going to shoot up here. You need to separate yourself from the situation."

"No," she stated, nearly before he stopped talking. "I've got a gun too. I can help."

"You aren't even cleared for field work!"

" _Wasn't,"_  she corrected. If it weren't for the direness of the situation, Ward would suspect a smug smile to be on her face. "It wouldn't matter anyhow. I'm not leaving my team in the hands of Hydra."

"I wouldn't let that happ-"

She'd meant him.

"I'm obviously trying my best here," Ward admitted, near desperate for understanding. He was also listening to Payne vaguely in the background, just to be sure they still had time for Fitz. "Don't let your pride get in the way."

"It would be completely selfish to leave and I'm going to stay with you."

He shouldn't argue with her. If she wanted to die to help her team, that was her right, he supposed.

But he didn't want Simmons to die. There was a reason he didn't put a bullet in FitzSimmons' heads when Garrett asked him to: he didn't want them to die.

But then there was that _free will_ shit…

"Fine," he said. "Let's move to the vent opening now. It won't matter if they see us for much longer."

She nodded resolutely.

Frankly, Ward was surprised she'd been following his instructions so well thus far. Disdain was still there. And as made clear before, she truly thought he was a crazy person.

But she was a genius, and therefore could most likely make threat assessments with each individual order or decision quickly enough. Maybe he'd been doing something right after all.

They moved towards the vent opening, and while no one appeared to be looking their way, they took in the scene before themselves.

Coulson was on a chair, hands tied behind his back and calves tied to front. He looked… horrible, to say the least. Red covered more of his body then not. Payne had definitely been favoring a knife in this instance.

This was evidenced even more, as the torturer twirled it just before Fitz's eyes.

"Don't tell t-them, anything. S-sir," said Fitz, hands tied behind his back as two soldiers flanked him. "It's ah… it- it- it is-"

 _"It, it, it,_ " mocked Payne. "Perhaps I shouldn't kill him. Maybe that would be too considerate; putting the broken toy out of its misery."

Ward could barely see Coulson through the immense amount of blood, but it seemed like the man wasn't taking any bait. He was staying completely still.

Beside Grant though, Simmons was shaking. In fear or rage? Ward couldn't tell.

Payne put the knife to Fitz's throat. "Last chance," he hummed.

Fitz's eyes were closed.

All Ward did was nod to Simmons.

She was the one to open the vent with the butt of her gun, after which he piled his way through. There was no vantage from up there. Ward needed to be on the ground.

And he was, but it took him a moment. He couldn't go down shooting to risk injuring Coulson or Fitz. Now everyone could see him.

Or they would have been able to, if the lights hadn't gone off halfway through his dive to the ground.

Skye's distraction; perfect timing.

Well, it would have been if she'd been a moment earlier so he could have gotten the night goggles on while  _out_  of the line of fire. At least they were still around his neck.

He started shooting. The enemy was shooting too, but blindly. And he was constantly moving from cover to cover. Simmons must have been firing from above him as well, because some of the Hydra agents' guns were poised in the direction.

There was a third source of bullets too, and Grant saw suddenly Skye in her true glory: completely focused in a stance that showed off May's training antics.

She felt pretty good about it, too.

There were like, what, ten guys there? But they were in the dark. She had night-vision goggles. This would have been taking-candy-from-a-baby easy if it weren't for Coulson and Fitz. She didn't have time to think about their emotions or obvious pain at the moment, given she was focusing too hard on trying not to kill them.

But if she could, she'd see Fitz, merely shrugging his shoulders in a defense and squinting his eyes, unable to see a better retreat as he knelt on the ground. His hands were tied behind him. He couldn't even shield himself.

And she'd see the buckets of bloodshed with Coulson. God, if a bullet hit him in those conditions…

She felt a sharp pain at the top of her leg, white-hot and insistent.

Oh. Oh, a bullet had hit _her_.

She crumpled before her hand even rushed towards the wound, feeling the slick blood now pouring out.

 _Skye!_  Ward wanted to shout. But he didn't. It would be like sending a blinking beacon out to his location, even more than his current shooting was doing. But he had to get to her. He had to help her, because at the moment she was a sitting duck. At least they couldn't see, but she was lying on the ground in the open and-

Still shooting.

God, he loved this woman.

Bullets flew through the air from the few soldiers that were left. Payne had gone to some corner to hide, but Ward thought he’d grazed the man's shoulder with a shot. His soldiers weren't so cowardly though, and they kept going. They must have been true Hydra believers.

His mind made a click to what his new agenda should be: save Skye. Protect Skye. She was doing a damn good job herself, but she was injured and in the line of fire.

Then he saw it.

A soldier had found Fitz in the darkness. He must have realized it was the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

He was going to end it. End  _him._

Ward went against what his mind's new agenda was, because his gut seemed to tell him the right thing to do.

He dove, and snapped the soldier's neck before he got the gun up to Fitz head. It was fast and messy, but the man fell to the ground. Ward tried to grab for Fitz. Take him to cover.

But another man must have felt his presence. Must have felt the wind of the soldier that fell or heard the snap of a neck, because the next shots were surely directed at Grant. Surely, because they went straight through him.

"Ward!" Skye shouted. Her voice hadn't held back.

That was fine, because even though Ward now had a hole in his chest, he heard and saw that Skye's next two shots were direct hits. Whether fueled by rage or adrenaline, they were precise as she bolted up from the ground.

Injured leg be damned, apparently.

It was quiet then. Other than some sniveling. Oh, that was Payne in the corner.

Skye wanted to run to Ward, but she'd be on the highest table of idiots if she didn't secure the single prisoner they had.

Her thigh hurt, but she pushed passed the pain as she stomped to the small man. The lights were still off, and he cowered when he heard her presence.

"Don't shoot, please!" he said, holding up his quivering hands. "I… I'm just a prisoner they were trying to get out! I didn't do anything."

Skye ground her teeth into her lip at that pathetic excuse for a lie. She couldn't even think of something to say. She wanted to, at least to make sure he knew it was his "project" in this pitch black. But she didn't know what. So she just grabbed his arm and hauled him up.

He hissed in pain, and she noticed the small graze to his shoulder. She was glad for its presence.

She wished it were deeper.

That's when she realized she didn't have any handcuffs. Or anything to restrain him with at all.

"Guess I'll have to improvise," she stated. She got to see the realization of it being  _her_  voice setting in to grace his face, just before she punched him. Hard. Against the side of the head. He slumped uselessly to the ground.

She couldn't savor the victory though.

She began jogging, albeit awkwardly and slow with her injured leg, to Ward. She passed Simmons. The girl was already working on Coulson.

"How is he?" Skye asked, only as she passed. She cared, she was truly worried about Coulson, but judging from Simmons’ expression his injuries didn't seem life threatening yet. And Ward didn't have the fortune of a doctor working on him.

Fitz just sat, slightly quivering, on the floor. His hands were tied, but he didn't require anyone's immediate attention.

"He needs stitches," said Simmons. "Possibly quite a few, and definitely some blood, but should be fi– Skye! Your leg! You've been sho-"

"I'm fine, just focus," Skye mumbled, sitting down next to Ward. It was taking a few moments, with her leg and all.

"Skye?" she heard Coulson's cracked voice. "You… ok?"

Somehow, it didn't register. Reassuring a freshly tortured AC was on the bottom of her list right now, because Ward was in such a worse condition then she'd even begun to think he'd been, and the sight of him overtook everything else.

"Holy shit," Skye gaped, looking at the hole in Ward's chest. "No,  _fuck_!"

Skye's voice was coming in muffled. It reminded Ward of when he'd be near bombs when they'd detonate; all sounds seemed as though they were originating underwater.

"Skye…" he tried.

He felt himself fading. He was fading too fast. He'd never felt himself lose control this quickly. Then again, his chest had never been so unprotected before. He’d always worn a vest.

But Skye... Skye was shot too. He was lying on the ground and her bleeding leg was right next to him.

He stared at it, his thoughts moving too slowly.

 _She needs pressure on that wound,_  eventually came into his head. He inched his hand towards her.

"Don't move you idiot!" she exclaimed shrilly, but Ward swore he could hear more concern than anger in her voice. "I'm trying to stop the bleeding. Simmons, can you-"

"Coulson needs immediate attention as well. He'll be alright, but only if we treat him now." Her next words sounded reluctant, like she was fighting a battle of whether to let them out or not. "Plus, Ward doesn't  _entirely_  deserve-"

" _Don't. You. Dare,_ " Skye growled, loud and low and dangerous.

The voices became blurry and muffled then. He thought he heard Fitz, something about helping if his hands were untied. Everyone seemed to be speaking so quickly and slowly at the same time.

Ward could see Skye through fuzzy vision. She was pressing onto his chest. Hard. With… was that her shirt? Oh. Skye didn't have a shirt on. Her shirt was soaked with blood, his blood.

That was oddly reminiscent.

"Don't you leave," she growled. "Don't you dare go away on me!"

He couldn't help it. Everything he wanted to do was for Skye, but he knew he couldn't help her with that one wish.

He should say something, he realized. Or at least he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," –he coughed, laboriously, - "for being Hydra."

He'd meant it. If he could go back, he'd tell them everything about Hydra back before the organization had been revealed, back on the BUS. They would have been angry. But redemption would have been possible at that point. Skye might have never hated him.

And though it was the entire truth, he really hadn't wanted to say those particular words in this moment.

He would have said something else. He would have said those three words that he realized he felt for her, more than anything he'd felt before. More than any allegiance. What he felt for that woman was real, and three words would let her in on the secret.

But he couldn't leave her with that. He couldn't leave her with regret, or what might have been. Maybe even guilt. Whatever it was would leave her with a bad taste in her mouth. Unfinished business.

He opted to leave her with that plea for absolution. So that maybe she'd know, without a doubt, that he was trying to be good. That all he wanted was to be better than what he was. That he could be a person of worth to others. The right others.

And he thought, but more likely imagined, as he drifted away, that he heard more than forgiveness come from Skye's soft, inviting voice.

_"I love you, too."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! Thanks for the feedback everyone :)


	11. Beauty Lies in the Eyes of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Hydra's invasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEAR WITH ME HERE, FOLKS.

Grant Ward did not have a funeral.

Apparently this was per his request, as said in his files. His S.H.I.E.L.D. files. Skye didn't know if it was true or if it was just his undercover persona.

But she'd wanted him to have one.

Ward had been no one's priority that day. When he died. Or, the day he started to. Fitz had gotten untied and helped the other agents, who in turn helped get Coulson to the infirmary on the BUS. With Skye's heated insistence they helped Ward too. They had tried to attend to her first, but she'd been persistent. His horrific condition might have tugged their heartstrings and caused them to go to his aid as well. It _might_ have.

Still, he'd been losing blood too fast. Skye watched buckets of it pour out of him as a few agents carried him out. She couldn't carry him out.

She'd been impaired, again, and had sat uselessly on the ground. She'd tried to carry him. Tried to help. But his muscled body was too heavy for her to lift on her best days, and even with the adrenaline pumping through her she couldn't move the man an inch. Not with a bullet in her leg.

She wanted to cry when they took him. She didn't.

That came later.

* * *

They'd patched her up. A bullet hole in the right leg, to match her knife wound on the left thigh.

What's one more scar on this body, right?

This body, her body, that was marred. This body that couldn't save him. That was useless with anything that really mattered, and mediocre at anything else.

She insisted to see him. And though her wound was non-lethal (because like some sick joke, she was the one to acquire all the undeserved luck) they told her no crutches quite yet, for how weak she'd been still. They wheeled her there. She was broken now, but she knew she'd be fixed.

He wouldn't be so lucky.

She hadn't known that, then.

Then, when she sat at his bedside. Held his hand. The two broken people she believed could both be mended.

He looked so fragile, lying unconscious in the medical bed that looked dwarfed beneath him. She didn't see super-spy S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or the traitor for Hydra, just the Ward that she'd come to know was actually a bit of both. The one she'd learned to care about.

And he was fading.

"Fight," she'd willed at him. " _Please,_  fight."

She didn't know how to help him. Not the way he'd helped her. She didn't know how to make him better. She didn't know if her words were getting through to him. She didn't even _think_  her words were getting through to him, because it just wasn’t in her beliefs that a person knew what was going on when they were unconscious.

But what else could she do?

She visited him everyday to whisper things to him. Plead with him, demand from him.

The only thing she ever got in return was the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor.

But she would not cry for him. He did not need tears shed. Because she'd convinced herself, you see. And she would not feel release until he could too.

She didn't want it to be the release he'd ended up with.

* * *

 

Coulson was fine. After they'd parked the BUS at another S.H.I.E.L.D. base in Germany (which could hardly be called a base, compared to the Playground,) she got to see him.

With the blood gone, Skye saw all the new additions to his face.

Many of the cuts were shallow. They'd heal in time. But others… well, he'd never look exactly the same.

Skye knew something about that.

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here," she offered. A little awkwardly. Because the way she'd handled it… not exactly the best role model.

She wasn't even sure if that fact mattered just for talking, for moral support. Still.

He'd smiled. It seemed to pain his face. "Thank you Skye. I may take you up on that someday."

He didn't. But she thought her presence helped, sometimes. Like the comfort of knowing someone understood. Had gone through something similar. Maybe reminding himself not to fall as far as her. It didn't matter, as long as she did something.

That had all happened when she still had hope.

* * *

 

It was precisely three days in that her world shattered.

She went to visit him. She'd just been granted crutches and wanted to show him, because she did things like that. It really wasn't like her, or at least didn't seem like something she herself would do. Have something new to show the unconscious. Still, she did.

But Ward was not there.

She blinked at the scene. Someone changing linens. Someone German and unknown to her.

Where was Ward?

"Oh Skye," she heard Simmons say. Skye turned. It was a slow movement, due to the crutches. "I didn't mean for you to come here. I wanted to tell you, before..."

Her throat got very dry.

"Please just say it," Skye said, water pooling in her eyes. "You have to say it."

Simmons mouth became a thin line.

"Ward's dead."

Skye just froze.

And because there was no reason to wait anymore, _that_ was when she cried.

* * *

 

She felt like a zombie after that. Lifeless. She had no drive. She'd hack when they asked her to, but didn't push it. Frankly, she was  _happy_  that she was too laid up to go in the field. Happy she was back on the disabled list.

_"Poor Skye"_  she'd heard them say. It seemed she heard people whisper about her more often then not. Either they weren't very careful, or they did it fairly often.

But what about poor Ward?

_"She's been so hurt." "She's not the same." "It's almost worse than the first time."_

_"How could she have loved him?"_

Of course. They wouldn't mourn him because some wouldn't give themselves a chance to like him.

It was a lot like the first time she'd gotten hurt, crutches and all. No Ward. But the promise of Ward had at least been there before, she'd just been wallowing in her own misery enough to convince herself not to see him.

The only promise at present was that she'd never see him again.

Her Hydra brand was old and she'd gotten used to it on her body. But now it served as a painful reminder. Not of the organization or being owned, or any of those things she'd learned to overcome. Just of him.

Because they'd both been marked, by Hydra. Her scar was merely the physical semblance of what Ward had been a part of, at least for a time. They went together like a pair. A matching set.

Hydra was a part of them, but they'd learned together it didn't define them.

S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't define them either. She was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D., but loyalties would not define her. And, she realized, both organizations had a part in his death. She learned to resent S.H.I.E.L.D. just a little for that.

Not as much as she resented herself.

* * *

 

"Skye."

This was why Skye didn't believe in god. If there were a true deity, surely her life wouldn't be so screwed up as this.

"Skye."

_God_  wouldn't let her fall for someone, have him betray her, and make her despise him. They wouldn't then allow her to work all that trust and understanding back into place, only for this person to leave her.

It was stupid. It was unfair. It was-

_"Skye!"_

"Hmm?"

She lifted her head from its position of staring blankly down. Looking at the food she hadn't touched.

"Are you going to finish that?" asked Trip.

Skye looked down at the complete chicken breast.

"Or you know… start it?" Hunter chimed.

"Um." She swallowed, her throat thick from lack of speaking. "I'm not sure I have an appetite."

"You do realize you have to eat to avoid, well, not dying?" Hunter said.

_Maybe I want to die._

_No. You know you don't, so don't even think it. Don't spit on Ward's grave like that. You learned to be better than that with him. You're_  going _to get better, even if you allow sadness in now._

Mourn, fix yourself, move on with normality. Those were the steps she intended to, and  _would_ , follow.

She was just stuck on step one for a while.

"And you'll heal faster if you take care of yourself," Bobbi piped up. God, when did all these people even come in? "So you can start working up your muscles again."

Again. Again and again. Just like her last rehab.

"Maybe I don't want to be a field agent anymore," Skye mumbled. And she might have meant  _that_  for real. "I'm obviously no good at it."

"C'mon," Triplett urged. "You know that's not true."

"I've probably been shot more than anyone in this room," she said, with almost zero emotion. "I suck."

"You can't think that way, Skye," urged Bobbi.

"Yeah," said Hunter. "You're probably just…" his voice trailed off, but Skye managed to raise an eyebrow in intrigue, "depressed," he finished. Lamely, but Skye didn't mind.

She shrugged. "You're right," she conceded. "Doesn't mean I'll change my mind though."

If Skye had cared at all, she might have left then. But she just sat. She felt the awkwardness stir around her, as they all managed to find something to do all of sudden.

When Skye looked up, only one person remained looking at her.

Skye hadn't even realized Simmons was there.

But there she sat, in the opposite corner of Skye. Her hand kneading anxiously through a strip of hair. She was staring at Skye, and Skye wasn't even sure the woman realized it. A nervous, worried stare.

Then, she got up and left.

And for once, Skye felt compelled enough to follow her.

* * *

 

She watched Simmons go straight into Coulson's little office at the German base.

Skye limped over there. She didn't need the crutches now, but she moved awkwardly still.

"She has a right to know!" Simmons was saying when Skye got close enough to hear. "This isn't right. We're putting her through so much emotional turmoil at the moment it could have lasting effects on her. And if she never hears the truth, there's no doubt in my mind that she'll always be affected by this."

_Truth?_

"We're doing this for everyone's own good. If you remember, Agent Simmons, this was a request, not an order."

"He was not in his right mind!"

"He is now," stated Coulson. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s keeping tabs on him. We're not letting him out of our sight."

Simmons was quiet. "Then… perhaps you shouldn't tell her where he is. But she should at least get to know that he's alive."

A jolt went through Skye. Right up her spine.

"Who?" she asked in a croak from the doorway. Both of the agents turned to her. Shocked, would be the optimal word for their expressions. "Who's alive?"

Coulson and Simmons shared a look for a few good seconds, until Coulson finally nodded. Jemma stepped forward.

And she told Skye everything.

* * *

 

She didn't know what to think when she heard the news. Relieved, almost certainly. Angry. Somehow sad, but a different sad than the mourning that had been gripping her for weeks.

Coulson offered to drive her there. He also offered to phone ahead, but she decided Ward didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to know anything when he'd kept her in the dark for so long.

"He asked us to tell you that," said Coulson.

She didn't look at him. "And you jumped at the opportunity."

She wasn't mad at Coulson. She wasn't.

"I wouldn't have allowed him to leave, actually," Coulson said, and then Skye did look at him. "I believed he was too dangerous and unstable to be out in the real world on his own. FitzSimmons were the ones that convinced me otherwise."

Skye's brow scrunched. "What?"

"They told me to give him a chance. That they'd seen him do good in a position when there were other options open." He stopped the red Corvette and gestured outside. "I guess you can go see for yourself if they were right."

Skye's eyes moved to see out the window. They were at a crappy motel. A crappy motel with yellow grass and overgrown trees.

Points for style, Ward.

"Do you want to go in with you?"

She was still staring out the window. "Actually," she said, "there are some choice words I have for him that I'd rather you didn't hear."

Coulson smirked at that. She tried not to notice the way the movement stretched his knife scars. She did notice. But it didn't change the amusement that built up in her from the gesture.

"I'll wait here then."

"It may be a while… but I don't know," she said. "Stay close?"

"Sure. There's a diner just down the road."

"Right, an old-timey one." She paused. "You just want to see if they have any Captain America paraphernalia, don't you?"

"It's possible." He shrugged, grin definitely present. Skye didn't move for a moment then, and Coulson hit a switch at the front of the Lola. Her door swung open. "Good luck."

* * *

 

This was probably Ward's worst gunshot wound.

He'd had injuries that were unduly hard, even worse when they happened in the middle of an op. That dragged on for days while he was in unforgivable climates or waiting for an extraction.

But he'd never had a pain last so long.

He wanted to start being productive. But it was difficult, when breathing felt like lighting fire to gas in his veins and moving sent him to hell in the condition.

But he was good at managing injury, and he was able to start his mission. In less physical ways, but still.

He was sitting down to watch the Morning news, turning on the TV that had to be one of the few square ones left in North America, when there was a knock at the door.

His gun was on the nightstand. (They'd given him an ICER.)

He moved so quickly to pick it up he nearly gasped at the ache. Even before he got a glance through the peephole her voice rang through loud and clear.

"Open the door,  _asshole_."

He snapped, suddenly stuck, as his feet wouldn't seem to move.

She shouldn't be here. Not yet. Not for a very,  _very_ long time.

There was a brusque sound of blunt force on the door. "You gonna let me in? Or are you going to make up some other shit story.  _Dead men can't answer the door, Skye,"_ she mocked in shrill tones.

He found his footing.

When she was revealed to him, he found her expression hard to read. Impatient, sure, shown by her jutted out hip, cocked head and crossed arms.

He must have look like a gaping fish.

She pushed straight passed him. Hmm. Maybe her hip was jutted for support. She was favoring her left leg.

She sat down on the bed and tilted her chin up to appraise him. Long and hard and unwavering.

"You look good for a ghost."

He swallowed.

"Are you going to start, or am I gonna have to? Because honestly, I don't even know  _where_  to begin."

_Just stay calm. You have good reasons. Just lay them out, one by one, and maybe she'll understand. She has in the past._

He unsteadily moved towards the desk near the TV, grabbing a handful of papers he'd acquired. He held them out for her.

"These are actually for yo-"

She slapped him. His hand, to be precise.

The ruffled papers drifted gently to the floor.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she exclaimed as she stood. Shook her head. "I decided I'm starting. Because, what the  _hell_  were you thinking?"

He maybe would have grit his teeth, or some other tell. But training, training that was steadily coming back to him since his stint in the vault, told him to be stoic.

"I thought it was for the best."

"I mourned you, you creep!" she said. Her voice had taken a turn for the desperate, cracked and sad along with angry. "I was shot,  _you_  were shot. We could have healed together and instead all I had was Everest-sized mountains of grief to help me through the process!"

There were so many tears. So much anger. This was not how he expected this reunion to go, if it ever happened.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

"You're sor-?" She scoffed. "Sorry? Doesn't apologizing ever get old, Ward? Why don't you try doing the right thing for once."

"I was. I am."

She huffed air out her nose. Not unlike an angry bull.

"How is telling me you're dead the right thing? Because, maybe you didn't know, but I sat with you  _every_  day. I wanted you to wake up so freaking bad that I would sit and talk to lump that couldn't move, hear or speak. I know you weren't there very long, but I would have done it for hundreds of days if you were!"

He nodded. "I did know you came. Simmons told me when I asked about you."

Skye just scoffed, the information only angering her further. She turned around to try and hide the tears. "Then how  _dare_  you?" she spat.

"I needed to go out and prove myself," he said to her back. Saw her head tilt up in interest towards him. "I needed to make sure I could be good without you, because that's the only way I deserve..."

_To be with you._  He did honestly mean with her at all. Her friend. Her co-worker. Someone she passed by every Sunday at the grocery store. But she wouldn't see it that way. And in the back of his mind, he knew he wanted something more too.

She spun around. "Then you wait until the hole in your chest fills in, pack a bag and say  _'hey Skye, I'm gonna go on a crazy spirit quest to find myself and see how many old ladies I can help across the street.'_  And I would say,  _'that's cool; make sure to get the Boy Scout badge for campfires while you're at. See ya in a couple months!'_ " She glared at him. "It would have saved a hell of a lot of unnecessary tears."

The thought of Skye shedding tears for him was strangely bittersweet.

He shook his head. "This way I had no attachment to you. No matter what, I wouldn't be able to see you, and I could figure out how to do things for myself. I've never done anything,  _decided_ anything, for myself Skye. I've never not had a plan mapped out for me of what I should be doing. I needed to find out what that feels like."

She seemed to be accepting the information. Standing there, waiting for more.

"Then, if I failed I would have never come back." He paused. "Well I'd come back to S.H.I.E.L.D., only so they could give me the proper repercussions for my actions. I'd never come back to you." He sighed. "You thinking I was dead could have helped you move on. Coulson agreed with that."

"I'll bet," she muttered.

"I also had a… slightly more selfish reason." He spared a look at her. She nudged her head, a  _go on_ gesture. "If I never came back, I'd have realized I couldn't be the person I'd like to be on my own. And I wouldn't want my failure to be your last memory of me."

Her eyes were full of tears begging to be released. She shook her head. "That wasn't your decision to make," she said quietly.

"I'm understanding that now," he said. "And I'm sorry." He winced, realized he apologized for doing something wrong again. He huffed in frustration. Maybe he was incapable of learning how to make the right decisions. Because- "You're right. I apologize too damn much."

Skye stared at him, almost puzzled as he made his way to sit on the bed. She followed suit.

He was so obsessed with "being good". Proving something to someone, mostly himself. It was as if he thought he had to either be the good person that gave up everything for anyone, or he was the evil villain with a deathray behind all the schemes. Very few things were that black and white in this world, and Skye wondered if he realized this.

Had he thought Hydra was on the "good" list of things, before trying to impress her? Before Garrett died, before trying to help S.H.I.E.L.D., for real?

The psyche of Grant Ward was a difficult puzzle to put together, for certain.

Gently, she put her hands up to cup his cheeks, guiding him to look at her.

"You are good," she assured him. "You're a good person, you just weren't sure how to do it before." She dropped her hands in favor of looking down on them. "I know a grown man shouldn't get to push away the blame of his actions just because someone taught him the wrong way… but you're trying to prove that you can do the right thing, not for warden or overseeing power, but for _yourself_."

She placed a light kiss on his lips.

"Because we both know you're doing it since you know what's right. Not for S.H.I.E.L.D., or even me," she said. "But if you want my help along the way, that can just be a bonus to make things easier."

Ward nearly felt embarrassed, but he smiled. When he lifted a hand to tuck the hair away from her face, he saw how the Hydra skull popped out from behind the strands.

That reminded him.

He shot off the bed suddenly, leaving Skye near reeling. She was expecting a move for her mouth.

Her lips pursed in small resenting scowl.

"I have something for you," he said. "It was the only thing I was going to do for  _you_  while I was gone, because I think you deserve it. And-" he grunted, strained as he tried to kneel down – "I've been a little too laid up for the other things I was planning."

He was trying to retrieve the papers she'd knocked out of his hands earlier, she realized. And he was in real pain doing it.

She hopped off the bed to help him, and they gathered the sheets together. Ward held out his half of the pile.

"Here," he said. "I was going to have Simmons say she had found it for you…"

Skye hesitantly took the files, sitting down as she flipped through them. There were pictures, before and afters of burn victims.

Wait…

The before images were the burns, and in the afters… they looked almost completely healed.

"What is this?" Skye whispered.

"This woman," Ward pointed to a picture, "has a clinic in Toronto. Her specialty is para-medical scar camouflage."

Skye shook her head. "I don't…"

"She uses tattooing to help burn victims get their natural skin pigment back," Ward continued. "I came to Canada and met with her office to tell them about your situation. They said they'd help you, but the process takes a few visits-"

Skye pressed the file back in his hands. A pang of guilt settled in her stomach as hurt crossed his face from the gesture. She made sure to smile. That usually brightened him as well.

"Thank you," she said. "But Coulson said I can't go to any doctors, because it would draw too much attention with all the technicalities. And they couldn't do it at the base – "

"Because S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have enough resources to use any on cosmetic surgery," Ward finished. Skye stared. "Simmons," he answered her unasked question.

"Right," she said. "So no skin grafts or anything."

"But this is a  _private_  clinic," he stressed. "No insurance or names need to be involved. They said they understood the confidentiality. Even if they most likely thought it was due to embarrassment for the burns, and not working for a top secret organization."

Tears were slipping through her eyes again by the time she chuckled lightly at his comment.

"This is amazing Ward, really," she said, taking the pictures back to look at them again. Her head turned up to him. "But I'm going to have to pass."

"What?"

"Just for now," she continued. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is… well, kinda crap at the moment. Hydra took out our biggest base. I can't really just  _move_  to Toronto for daily treatments while we've got so much to do. And besides," she tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her neck boldly, "I'm ok with it."

God, she'd come so far.

It was almost like he couldn't help it. He wrapped her up in a hug, feeling her hair brush his cheek as she eagerly pressed into his shoulder. Her arms stretched around him. It felt as though she was holding on for her life.

"You should come back," she said. He put himself at arms length to see her eyes. "To S.H.I.E.L.D., I mean. I know you've got this whole prove-yourself-to- yourself gambit, but… we really need people."

"Coulson wouldn't-"

"I've talked to Coulson, and he's… open to it." She sighed. "I'm not gonna lie, it'll be shaky. But we need all the help we can get, and you proved something, that day. People don't take jumping into a bullet for them lightly."

_Even if it takes them a while to realize it_ , she thought bitterly.

Because no, having Ward back would not be easy for many of them. He'd be criticized, watched, and judged every moment he was there. Not that it was unwarranted. Skye just knew it was unneeded.

And she believed that, given time, they would see what she did.

"Maybe," he told her.

She nodded. She'd accept that. Wouldn't plead with him any more. It was his decision, after all.

"Payne's not there anymore," she said finally to break the silence, a little quietly.

Ward's head jerked. "He was moved?"

Her face was a mask, though she wasn't quite sure of what she was trying to hide.

"He's dead."

Skye had never said this before out loud. She’d never said it out loud because she knew it had been her fault. She had been so void of… anything. Any emotion, feeling or drive since Ward's death.

(Fake death.)

But she'd thought it was real. And the feelings - or lack or denial of - had been real.

Then they asked her to help with Payne's interrogation. The only person she'd ever interrogated was Ward, and that was under special circumstances. She'd had surface level training on the topic.

She was special in this situation as well.

_"He thinks you're unstable," Bobbi said. She was the one running the interrogation. "He doesn't believe I'll hurt him. Says it's not my style, and he's right."_

_"I'm not going to," Skye mumbled. She hated Payne, but she'd never felt less bloodlust in her life._

_"I don't think you should," Morse clarified. "But he believes you will."_

_And something clicked in her head. Just play tricks on his mind. Make him think she was desperate, that she'd do anything. When she'd, in the best case, never have to lay a finger on him._

_It was the only time she'd been determined since Ward had gone. It wasn't just the autopilot she'd go on missions with when she'd first been hurt. It was something to hold onto, a purpose. She could feel her mind healing of the traumatizing emotions from Ward's absence._

_Payne then believed her theatrics. He told them the information. They got what they needed from him._

_And then, out of fear of_  her _, he killed himself._

Ward listened to her story without seeming to pass any judgment.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he told her.

"I don't," she said. And she hoped it was true. "I mean, I know he did it because he was scared of me, but I didn't tell him to commit suicide. I was the cause of it. That doesn't make it my fault."

Ward smiled at the wise words.

"Did it make you feel satisfied?"

"Honestly? It's nice to have him gone. But I think I'd be just as relieved if he'd just been transferred to prison."

_Maybe_ , said the voice in her head. And then, because this was Ward, she said it out loud as well.

"I do feel like he got what he deserved though," she admitted. "Like, justice and all that. Which is nice."

It took her a few moments to realize she'd been unwaveringly staring at his gentle face. Because no matter how much she was angry with him, felt hatred for him lying to her that he was dead, she couldn't help that that above it all…

"Damn, I really missed you."

She ran into his arms, letting her buried emotions burst forth all at once as she barreled into him. He winced as the momentum hit – still recovering from two bullets in his chest and all- but she didn't stop. She sent a barrage of kisses his way.

She kissed his face and his arms and his neck, even his chest, lightly as raindrops in spring. The soft touches took almost all his pain away. Then she stopped.

"Too bad you're such a good person, getting yourself shot and all," she said, gently tracing the wound on his chest. "Because I'd have liked to put this motel room to good use."

He let out a small chuckle at that. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe to hide just a slight letdown of what they could have been doing. What they'd _almost_  done, before in his cell.

But honestly, doing anything with Skye would be thrilling to him.

"Or maybe if we're careful, and I do most of the wor-"

"How long do you have?" he decided to ask.

She looked a little shocked at the question, probably because he'd cut her off. And Skye had been tapping him suggestively while she spoke, he realized. But maybe this was better.

"Coulson's waiting at a diner down the road," she said. "But if you have a car… well, he said I could take the day."

"Alright. Would you want to go to the zoo?"

Now that had her reeling.

"What?" she giggled out with an almost deranged stupor. The request was just so… ordinary.

"I'd like to take you to the zoo," he clarified. "There's one nearby, I think. I noticed a pamphlet in the lobby-"

"No no, I got the zoo thing. Animals you gawk at while you pretend you're traveling to Africa or the Amazon or whatever. I was more stuck on the  _why_ , maybe a how…"

Because this was Grant Ward. Trained specialist, undercover super spy man. He might have had a thing for board games, but cutesy animals did not seem his forte. (Even though at times he did remind Skye of the fluffiest of puppies.)

"I'll come back to S.H.I.E.L.D., if you really believe I can be of help," he said. "I just think you should try doing something for yourself. We can do something for ourselves."

Skye was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D., and Grant didn't think there was much that could stop that. But since their fall, Skye didn't seem to do anything that _wasn't_ for their benefit. He wanted to give her something that was just for her. He wanted to give himself something that was for him. Something that didn't exist in a world of bullet wounds, burns, and espionage.

Something normal.

"Ok," she agreed. Ward felt his own face brighten at the smile on her face. "One condition though."

"Of course," he said stiffly, and the worry that suddenly lined his face had Skye stifling a laugh.

"There  _have_  to be tigers."

It took a moment, maybe just a half of one, but then he was chucking. Nodding. "Tigers it is then," he said.

"You have a favorite?" she asked.

"Zoo animal? I guess you could say I'm a bear guy."

"Of course you are." Screw puppies. Big, ferocious, fluffy, cute things? That's Grant Ward. "In that case, we need to see lions too."

"Do we?" he asked, sounding puzzled but amused.

"Yeah. Get it? You know… lions, and tigers, and bears-"

He pulled her into an abrupt kiss. Long and forceful and unrelenting, that seemed to be the way with everything the two of them did.

"Oh my," Skye whispered breathlessly when they parted. She felt him chuckle beside her.

_Felt_  because Skye couldn't seem to open her eyes. Not right now. Not when what she thought she'd never feel or the laugh she'd never hear was happening right before her.

She sighed, resting her forehead on Ward's.

"Don't die again, ok?" she whispered a plea.

"I'll try my best," was all he could promise. It was all he had that he could hold to the truth in their line of work, and maybe being truthful would lead to less apologies.

She nodded. He put a hand to her face, which she met gently, her cheek brushing against his hand. He felt the burn under his fingers, and slowly stroked at it.

Swept it away, under a rug. Today was not a day for Hydra, or S.H.I.E.L.D., or blameful co-workers and manipulative SOs; it was for them.

It was a day when he heard Skye laugh, truly lighthearted and carefree for the first time since his betrayal. Her hair in a ponytail. (He hadn't seen her so happy in one of those since before the incident.)

The day Skye convinced him to smile wearing kangaroo ears for a picture. (She saw him smile genuinely, too.)

It was a day they kissed, and when they got back to the car, a day they did a little more. (The  _little_ part courtesy of a gunshot wound, though Ward admittedly surpassed Skye's expectations.)

A day of crappy zoo food, campy souvenirs, out of control goats at the petting zoo, parrots that didn't know a low volume setting and a ridiculous multi-colored train ride Skye refused to pass up.

And tigers and bears.

One day out of their whole lives that was irrevocably for them.

And maybe it was selfish. Or silly. Ridiculous. But there was one thing they both knew that day had been for certain.

Good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! :D Sorry I gave you a scare, but what's this story without its angst? And look at that sweet ending! (sugary sweet. vomit inducing sweet... look, I have a hard time with romance). But yeah, both ends of the spectrum in this chapter.
> 
> Sorry for the no smut. I tried. It was... not terrible, but I just can't post it. IDK. I hope you enjoyed anyhow, thanks for reading!


	12. That Smutty Ending Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Ward screw. Oh, and they find some new use for scarves.

“Grant?”

 

Ward looked up from his paper.  Yes, paper. He enjoyed the vintage things in life sometimes.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Skye was smiling impishly in front of him. A clever grin that made him think she was up to something. But he was drawn lower than her mouth, as she only wore two articles of clothing: a robe, and a scarf.

 

“You like it? It’s new,” Skye said, giving a twirl to show off the triangle patterned fabric around her neck.

 

“Uh, sure,” he said hesitantly. “But I thought you said you weren’t going to cover that anymore?”

 

“What, my neck?” she puffed air from her lips, kind of like a horse. If horses could be sexy. Was that wrong to think? “Just because I don’t mind the scar doesn’t mean I can’t accessorize.”

 

“You’re adding accessories with a robe?”

 

She looked down, puzzled. Faux puzzled. Something was going on… “Ah, yeah. Totally forgot to complete the outfit.”

 

He cocked a brow. “You going out?”

 

She flashed him a toothy smirk. “Nope.”

 

Then her robe fell, right off her back so it bunched into a small lump at her feet. She didn’t move an inch, allowing him to bask in the sight of her …which was appreciated.

 

“Like it now?” she asked, giving another spin which was giving Ward an admittedly much better view.

 

(Skye’s ass. It was giving him a view of Skye’s ass, in case that wasn’t clear.)

 

So they’d been dating a while, a few months, and he’d seen it quite a lot. It didn’t stop a growl of lust growing in his throat.

 

“I do,” he told her huskily. “I’d like to see it up close.”

 

She twirled the fabric playfully as she walked forward, slow strides taunting him until she was mere inches away. She bent over, the scarf in his face and ripe breasts dangling just beneath it.

 

Skye loved teasing him like this. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was learning about and playing with the man before her. She was figuring out his every kink and notion with each moment they spent together, and she reveled in it.

 

Skye pushed forward to kiss him, allowing her chest to press against his graciously. They made out for a minute or two, tongues chasing each other as Ward played lightly with her nipples. He’d been gently massaging into her neck with the scarf just before and had moved that to her chest as well, the fabric teasing her easily until she was shivering with eager waves of light pleasure.

 

“C’mon,” she said impatiently and motioned to his shirt. “Get that off, this isn’t fair,” she pouted, suddenly lost in lust and wanting to see exactly what she yearned for. Eventually she’d go lower… but quite honestly, Grant Ward’s abs were definitely her go-to turn on.

 

He cocked a brow. “Say please?”

 

“Ward!”

 

He laughed at her impatience and complied, so they were somewhat closer to equals on the current nudity scale. She came forward once again to feel the warmth of his skin, when she felt a gentle tug around her neck.

 

He tipped the scale in the wrong direction.

 

“Hey,” she said softly. “I was going to leave that on.”

 

“Better this way,” he mumbled, trying to pull her closer as he held the soft scarf in his fist. She stopped him with hands to his shoulders.

 

“It was supposed to be a treat,” she explained. One time you didn’t have to look at it. Supposed to be sexy.”

 

He frowned. “How many times have I told you-“

 

“That I make everything beautiful, nothing could be bad on me, blah blah,” she finished for him, suddenly crossing her arms. “I just… I wanted this, for once. I wanted to feel it too.”

 

“Skye…” he said, cupping her cheek. “I mean, you can leave it on if you want to… but I kind of feel like I’m getting gipped. I don’t get the full experience if I don’t have all of you.”

 

“You _say_ that, but-“

 

“You know what? Fine. You’re right, could be a lot better with the scarf. Let’s keep it in play.”

 

Skye looked shocked, maybe even hurt, but she’d gotten her way.

 

So she thought.

 

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for it back.

 

“Ah, ah ah,” Ward scolded lightly, causing her to pause.

 

Her outstretched arm was suddenly wrapped and tugged in soft material. Ward tied a loose knot around her wrist with the scarf and began leading her like a dog on a leash.

 

“Hey!” she giggled, following easily. He led her to one of the wooden desk chairs in their bedroom. One with armrests.

 

The scarf was long but not overly so, and Skye was honestly floored by how he’d managed to tie down not only her arms with merely the stretchy scarf, but her calves attached to the chair legs as well. It was a little tight, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as the handcuffs they’d tried out not too long ago. Her wrists had been chaffed and ached for a week.

 

Though, that had actually started out as some refresher training, so not exactly planned….

 

Anyway, at that current moment Skye was tied down and therefore proxy to his mercy, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“You’re ok?” he whispered, always overly gentle when using bondage. He was worried about some aftermath of the incident… but honestly, Skye had liked being tied up for sexytimes on occasion before and being in the hands of Hydra hadn’t changed that.

 

Plus, she enjoyed how it turned her “captor” into a total teddy bear.

 

She nodded, but pulled at the restraints playfully. “Actually, I don’t know… I’m a little nervous. There’s big tough guy who’s got me all to himself.”

 

“Skye, safew-?“

 

“Rosebud,” she said before he could finish asking her to confirm the word. “Mr. Old-Movie fanatic…”

 

“Citizen Kane is a classic,” he told her. “And I wouldn’t be mouthing off if I were you…” he said, standing up tall and pacing in front of her. Leering down at her, eyes roaming her body.

 

He still had his pants on, Skye noted suddenly. How had she managed to get tied up without getting them on the same level first? She was completely bare, here.

 

She shrugged. “Can’t help it. Black and white movies are so passé. See, it’s that kind of stuff that makes our friends think you’re boring.”

He scowled.

 

A mere instant later he leapt down at her like a predator, and Skye yelped in surprise as he gripped her spread apart thighs. The playful smirk had vanished from his face, leaving Ward’s eyes stoney and cold.

 

“Might need another scarf to use as a gag for that mischievous mouth of yours.” He took one hand off of her leg, pressing into firmly onto her clit with his thumb. It sent waves flowing through her, flushing into her body so that her toes curled and her mouth opened with a moan. He grinned in triumph. “Then again… maybe I want to hear some more.”

 

He slid two fingers inside her and began rubbing and pumping, expertly hitting all the right places he’d come to know would make Skye whine, and it was working now. She mewed and panted as he took to sucking each of her tits in a near rhythm. In fact, he was enjoying himself so much he almost forgot his intentions.

 

He pulled back his fingers.

 

“Hey! What the hell?”

 

He looked over his glossy fingers pensively. “Now… who was it you said is boring?”

 

“Oh my god,” she moaned overdramatically, her eyes bulging. “You’re not boring! Now please… please…” she begged, then paused as her eyes lit up. “Inside me, please. Not your fingers.”

 

He cocked a brow, playing indifference. “Yeah?”

 

“Yes, please!” she wailed, thrusting her chest out with impatience.

 

“You got it,” he said gruffly. He began fishing out his cock, Skye’s whines and griping only hurrying him on faster.

 

He looked her over on the chair. Beautifully spread for him, but the way the seat was angled… it would be difficult.

 

“C’mon Grant!” she huffed. He quickly went to work trying to undo the scarf, but he’d tied his own knots too well. “Grant!”

 

“I’m trying,” he said, frustration welling over him as well.

 

Skye moaned and lolled her head. “Cut it off!”

 

“You said it was new…”

 

“Cut the fucking thing off!”

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. (Ok… three times.) Ward grabbed a knife from the table and sawed out the fabric strung to her right leg. Skye wrapped it around him instantly, and he knew she didn’t intend for him to finish the job. He pushed inside of her.

 

The delaying had done them both well, only adding to the relief when he was finally in her deeply. She had been visibly dripping before his cock ever touched her.

 

Skye sounded blissful and relieved and he went to town on her, skirting the chair across the ground with every thrust. He wasn’t in the most comfortable position… but honestly, it added to the grittiness of this particular encounter.

 

After Skye came screaming for a second time Ward did finish cutting her out, lifting her bodily as she put both legs around him. He fucked her standing. Skye became coherent from her moans long enough to give him a once over before diving into a greedy kiss.

 

They ended on the bed where he finally came into her, pulling out and leaving her writhing from leftover pleasure on the bed.

 

“Love you,” she mumbled, near incoherent.

 

He pushed himself onto his elbows, looking down at her perfect form. He kissed Skye lightly. “Love you too.”

 

“And you owe me a new scarf,” she mumbled, just as blissfully.

 

Wait, what?

 

“You told me to cut that off,” he said accusingly, nuzzling into her neck.

 

“You were the one with boyscout badge worthy knots. _You_ owe _me_ a new scarf,” she repeated.

 

“Ok,” he conceded. “As long as you promise to only wear it to accessorize. No more… covering your scar.”

 

“Fine, no more scarves for scar,” she said, then cocked a brow. “But really, _only_ accessorizing?”

 

“On second thought… other activities can be included. In fact, maybe we should get a few.”

 

“Five.”

 

“Five?”

 

“Yeah,” Skye said, musing. “My mind is swimming with ideas.”

 

“Ah,” he cooed, looking over her again fondly. “I could think of a lot of things to do with you…”

 

He began drawing lightly on her arm, but she sat up and tilted her head, making him back off just a tad. She tisked. “Aw, baby boy,” she pouted. “You have to know… next time, it’s _my_ turn with _you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ruined my all tidy and wrapped ending with some smut... there's a tad of angst but yeah. It had been requested and someone asked if I was going to write Skyeward again ever so... there ya go!
> 
> I didn't really proofread, sorry! And I know this is much declined in writing quality from the rest of the story but I... figured I'd give you what you asked for :)


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